Operation One-Eighty
by jadomil
Summary: Severus is very happy with Hermione. When his sudden wish for offspring could interfere with their bliss, he comes up with a true Slytherin masterpiece of a plan to convince her. Written for the SSHG Exchange 2012.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note:_ Written for iulia_linnea for the SSHG Exchange 2012. A big thank you to my team of helpers: sixpence_jones, desigrl and lyre_flowers.

* * *

**Operation One-Eighty**

Severus Snape regretted leaving his billowing robes at home. He might have promised Hermione to wear the fitted green robes she liked so much, but he always felt ill at ease in the maelstrom of red-haired exuberance that was the Burrow, and the reassuring flutter of his robes never failed to make him feel better. That, and scowling. Unfortunately Hermione had ruled that out, too. She had mentioned that it would diminish his chances of getting laid later, and only the thought of a willing and enthusiastic Hermione naked in their bed as a reward could get him through the day without either going insane or murdering anyone.

The day had started out sunny but soon turned cool and cloudy. Severus wrapped his summer robes tighter around his scrawny form.

Some of the women in flimsy summer dresses had fled from the Weasley garden into the house as soon as the first cloud showed up in the sky and dragged Hermione with them. She had given him an apologetic look over her shoulder and was gone. Severus would have liked to follow her, but the other women had jokingly threatened the men with 'girl talk', as one of her companions had called it, and so successfully kept him from joining her. He cast a non-verbal heating charm and slunk down the garden path to keep warm.

He took care not to come too close to the mob of noisy children running around the pond and the adults playing Quidditch above the orchard. The whole extended Weasley family, which unfortunately through his relationship with Hermione included Severus against his will, had turned up to celebrate Arthur's long-awaited, finally official promotion from head of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects to head of the whole Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The host and a number of his disgustingly cheerful guests stood around two big tables sagging under the weight of enough sandwiches, chicken and ham pie, salad, rock cakes and homemade strawberry ice cream to feed the whole Ministry of Magic.

The lamentable lack of shadowy corners in which he could lurk left Severus hovering around the rose bushes instead. How he wanted to blast them. Just one, or maybe two - he could always pretend it had been an accident.

Someone bumped into Severus from behind, nearly sending him sprawling, and then waltzed off without apologising. Severus cursed under his breath and straightened, ready to give the miscreant a piece of his mind. If Arthur had not noticed Severus that same instant and waved at him, he might even have forgotten himself and let Potter's precious firstborn grow a fetching pair of antlers. As it was, Severus just nodded back at Arthur and gripped his wand tight enough to make his knuckles crack, wishing he could at least take house points off the snotty brat.

James Potter. Of course. Who else but a Potter could make him regret his resolution to be a better man? The boy was a combination of Weasley and Potter genes, oh joy. When Severus had woken up from his long coma after the battle and found himself alive and pardoned, he had sworn to take his chance, turn over a new leaf and keep his nose clean in the future. For some reason he had decided that meant he couldn't insult the feeble minded do-gooders around him any longer. He had also stopped following raving noseless madmen and killing barmy old headmasters, but giving up the insults had been the hardest. When he came down from his potion-induced high he amended his resolution to appearing like he had turned over a new leaf. He could still insult every last one of them in his head without anyone being the wiser. Well, nobody but a very skilled Legilimens, but it hadn't exactly been a good year for those thanks to yours truly.

But James Sirius Potter - James _Sirius _- made Severus's wand hand twitch. He followed the laughing and screeching seven-year-old with his eyes. If looks could kill...

There was a loud bang, a flash of green smoke and young Potter dropped to the ground. Before Severus could do anything, like yelling 'It wasn't me!' at the top of his lungs before hexes would come flying from all sides, the boy jumped up again and giggled.

"James Sirius Potter, you'll hand over those Bombtastic Bombs right now."

"Mu-um!"

While Ginevra Potter flew over to her son and gave him a talking-to, Severus closed his eyes and counted to ten. _One sneaky Slytherin, two sneaky Slytherins, three sneaky Slytherins... _Severus's heart rate slowly returned to normal. The dark clouds gathering in the sky matched his mood perfectly. When the first few rain drops landed on his scalp he turned his back on Ginevra, who had just dismounted to solve the minor familial problem once and for all, and strode back to the house.

Surely Hermione was finished with her girl talk.

He didn't mind her spending time with her friends, especially if the spending happened far, far away from him; he did mind being shoved to the side and being forced to face them alone, however. He owed Arthur for recommending him to St. Mungo's as a brewer when nobody in Britain wanted to buy from him and he had to ship all his potions to the continent to make a living, but that gratitude didn't extend to the plentiful fruit of Arthur's loins.

As he approached the back door he could hear voices and clatter from the kitchen. Severus grimaced. Those Weasleys could not survive one hour without stuffing their faces. It probably had to do with growing up under Molly's influence, he mused. No wonder the lot were Quidditch mad, they would have the body shape of a well-fed Puffskein without the exercise. It was probably Molly in the kitchen right now.

He was proven right when he heard Molly say, "He's such a little cutie, I could nibble his tiny little feet all day!"

That explained the food fixation, Severus thought, get'em when they're young and all that rot.

"I really envy you, Molly. Such a big family, and now Ron has got one on the way."

Severus did not recognise the second woman's voice, although he could hear her clearly with the door ajar; he guessed she was one of Molly's cousins.

"It is nice, isn't it? But I guess it's not for everyone, I mean, I don't want to speak ill of her. She's not our daughter but I like to think of her as family."

"You mean Ginny's friend, what's her name?"

"Hermione."

Severus didn't miss a beat, but he slowed down and pretended he was admiring Arthur's garden shed. Breaking the habits of a lifetime was hard, and he had been a good spy. Most of the living ex-spies were.

"Ah yes, Hermione. Ginny mentioned that her thirtieth birthday is coming up, perhaps she'll change her mind? Tick tock goes the clock."

Severus crossed the last few yards with the speed of a glacier and the same frosty demeanour.

"No, no, I'm afraid not."

"Is it because of him? How long has that been going on, anyway?"

Severus had a good idea who the him in question was. He was now near enough to peer inside the kitchen while looking to the rest of the world like a man with a peculiar interest in the moss growing on the stone steps (_Funaria hygrometrica_, he could think of four possible uses off the top of his head; alas, none of them deadly). Molly stood at the cooker with her back to him. To her left sat a short stick-figure of a woman leaning forward and clutching an enormous handbag.

"Oh, three years, give or take. Surprised us all that they lasted longer than three months, to be honest. Mind you, it's probably for the best that Severus is not a father. The stories the children tell about his teaching days! But no. Hermione doesn't want children. That's why she and Ron split up, in fact."

"Oh, I see."

"Yes. Mind giving me a hand?" Molly asked, and Severus saw the two women disappear through the door to the scullery. "Now, where have I put the tablecloth?"

Severus slipped inside. On the wall the magical clock's single hand first pointed to 'Cooking', then jumped to 'Time to get everyone inside' while Severus was looking. A pot stood on the cooker and the aroma of beef stew wafted through the air. Severus had to squeeze by the centrepiece of the now deserted Weasley kitchen, a big wooden table. Although the worn-down hardwood floor creaked under Severus's heavy boots the women didn't notice him. He quietly closed the door behind him and hurried down a narrow passageway.

"Oh, 'ello Severus."

In front of him Fleur Weasley came down the staircase with a baby in her arms wrapped in a knitted blue blanket. As always in the presence of the tall fair-haired quarter-Veela, he had to suppress a smile. He inclined his head in greeting instead.

"Little Louis needed a new nappy."

That was more information about little Louis than Severus ever wanted to know, but he nodded anyway. He couldn't think of a single reply that wasn't sarcastic.

"'Ave you seen Bill? No? Ronald, what 'appened to your 'ands?"

Behind them Ronald Weasley strolled up, grinning from ear to ear like a loon. "Me and the kiddos were just testing our experimental stuff."

The imbecile held up his arms and showed his enlarged hands. They were each the size of a Bludger and flopped grotesquely from one side to the other like a pair of oversized gloves. "Wicked, huh? It's a new version of the Ton Tongue Toffee."

He wiggled his fingers and missed the photograph of an old wizard by a hair's breadth. "Sorry, mate." The little figure jumped back in its frame, shook its fist and then stomped off into the background.

Fleur Weasley wrinkled her nose and cupped the back of her baby's head with one hand as if to shield it from his uncle's bad influence. "That is disgusting."

Severus silently agreed. He had been exposed to the maximum dose of Weasley charm he could endure and Hermione's former beau was a sore point with him even on a good day. He needed to find her, soon, before he started decimating her friends. How curious, he had always thought he would start by offing Potter. Junior, that is. Or was it senior, now? The middle one, damn it, he wouldn't call him Harry in his head.

"'Do you know where Bill and the girls are, Ron?"

Weasley shrugged his shoulders and waved with his left monstrosity in the direction of the kitchen. "Dunno. Mum wants everybody to come in 'cos it's started raining. Maybe Bill's helping to bring in the food?"

"Raining? My purse, eet's still outside. 'Ere, will you hold Louis? Ah no, not you," she said and, evading Weasley's outstretched arms, pressed the baby against Severus's chest, forcing him to put his arms around the boy to prevent him from falling down.

He was too stunned to protest so the strange strangled sound he heard had to come from Weasley next to him. No Hogwarts educated woman would ever hand her baby to him, not even the Slytherins. He remembered too late that Fleur Weasley née Delacour was a Beauxbatons alumna.

His first instinct was to shove the bundle right back into its mother's arms, but she had already stepped back. "Only one minute," she said and disappeared down the passageway.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Weasley twitch. What did that moron think, that he would drop the child? Or maybe scarper and use it as a potion ingredient? Once again he wondered how a woman as intelligent as Hermione could have lowered herself to fall for that simpleton. Severus only didn't sneer because that endangered his deal with Hermione if she heard of it. When she heard of it, he corrected, because he knew with dead certainty that every second from now on until Fleur returned would be re-enacted ad nauseam to the amusement of the whole Weasley clan. He raised his Occlumency shields to give nothing away and only then did he allow himself to look down at the child in his arms.

It was sleeping. Well, thank Merlin for small favours. It was also surprisingly heavy and had a mop of red hair over its scrunched-up face. Apparently the Weasley side had wrestled the Veela charm to the ground in this one, poor sod.

Severus congratulated himself on his foresight when the boy turned his head and yawned into Severus's robe in his sleep. Severus's eyebrow wanted to crawl up to his hairline but was held back by the steely grip of his Occluded mind. A clear case of damned if you do, damned if you don't. Weasley was prone to misinterpret any reaction on Severus's part to his disadvantage.

It became harder to maintain his stoic appearance with Louis shifting in his arms. Interesting. Apparently sleeping like a baby wasn't a synonym for sleeping like a log as he had thought. And now the boy smiled. While asleep. The corner of Severus's mouth broke rank and had to be dragged down again ruthlessly. If he was lucky Weasley hadn't noticed or if he did, mistaken it for a nervous tick.

Severus hadn't known babies could smile in their sleep. Was that part of the Veela allure manifesting or normal child behaviour, maybe a sign of indigestion? Severus felt beads of sweat form on his forehead from the mental strain he was under. Deep, deep down, unnamed emotions boiled and threatened to bubble to the surface. Any longer and he would suffer irreparable damage to his reputation, he was sure. What was keeping that woman?

"Ah, I'm back, but you didn't even notice, no?" Fleur cooed at her child and lifted him back into her arms.

Behind her came the whole family stomping down the corridor. Severus saw how Ronald Weasley bounced on his toes and practically burst with the wish to share the tale of the bat of the dungeon with a child shoved in his arms and felt his ire rise like it always did when he felt cornered and ridiculed. If he wasn't very careful he would lose control and make a mockery of himself. At best he would cut Weasley down to size but at worst he would start ranting and raving like a lunatic. He decided there and then to disappear and wait out the rush in the loo.

He locked the door behind him with more force than was strictly necessary, settled down on the closed lid and took a deep breath. Some kind soul had left an old Quidditch Monthly magazine on the window sill and Severus flipped through the pages, skimming over the articles while he listened to the hubbub outside. When that couldn't hold his interest any longer he wrote his shopping list in his head. In alphabetical order to make it more challenging. The muffled sound of the horde stampeding through the house ebbed down around the time Severus got stuck after T for toilet paper and gave up.

There wasn't much to see in the tiny room; it was only big enough for the loo, a sink and a tiny milk glass window with a flower pot on the sill. Every surface was scrubbed spotless apart from a dirty smudge over the towel rail. Severus leaned forward. His guess was one of the children had played with the flower soil. He checked the window. Yes, there were trails covered by the leaves. Severus dipped his index finger in the soil and pressed it next to the original smudge.

Definitely flower soil.

Another mystery solved through experience, expertise and experimentation. One Evanesco later his hand was clean, the wall wasn't and Severus's mood had brightened. He idly wondered if Hermione had put him under Imperio to come with her today and dismissed it as unnecessary. She could dangle the vaguest prospect of sex in front of his big noggin and he was putty in her hands. If he was lucky, Hermione had already had an overdose of Molly by now and was ready to leave. That cheered him up immensely and he left his sanitary haven.

He found Hermione in the packed living room, standing in the corner in a gaggle of women. Ginevra Weasley gesticulated wildly to the obvious amusement of that former Bell woman while Hermione smiled politely and looked about the room. In exchange for him wearing the robes of her choice she had let him pick her dress, and Severus used the opportunity to admire his handiwork. He definitely got the best of the bargain. She wore one of her few _are-you-sure-it's-not-too-short_ dresses, a floral summer dress that was his favourite because of its plunging _I-__cannot-possibly-wear-this_ neckline. The _really-__I'll-break-my-neck_ heels were the icing on Severus's cake.

When Hermione's gaze met his, her smile widened and turned into a real one. She stole a peep at Ginevra, who was still the centre of attention, and then tugged at her left earring. Severus smirked. That was his cue, the secret signal that she used only in the most dire of situations.

He wove his way through the crowd and let Hermione take his arm.

"There you are, Severus! Ginny was just telling us about the Quidditch game."

She squeezed his upper arm and bumped against him. His skin tingled where a lock of her curls brushed over his cheek and the familiar scent of her discreet perfume wafted up his nose, inviting him to have his wicked way with her. Like always he marvelled at how he had managed to win her and, even more miraculously, keep her. He suspected the secret of their success was her stubbornness and not his irresistible charms, but he could live with that. If they had been alone he would have embraced her and buried his face in her hair as a prelude to more salacious activities, but that had to wait until he had stolen her away.

"I'm afraid it's time for me to leave. I have a potion simmering at a critical stage," he lied in a bored voice.

"I should come with you, after all it's my patient and if it works I want to have detailed records."

The excuse sounded ham-fisted to Severus's ears, but none of her friends knew enough of St. Mungo's inner workings in general and Hermione's role as acting department head and co-founder of the new research ward in particular to catch her in a lie. None of the new spells and potions developed by Hermione's small team had made it out of the testing stages yet, although it was only a matter of time, and Hermione only worked directly with patients when she was filling in while one of the regular Healers was on holiday.

They took their leave and fought their way through the crowd. Hermione smiled and waved and hugged Weasleys left and right, no matter if born, née or related by law while Severus simply nodded and steered her towards the door. Only Potter dared to give him a slap on the back, grinning like a madman and even adding a cheeky 'see you, Severus'. The whelp's bothersome hero worship had turned into worrying chumminess since Hermione had started seeing Severus.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered on their way out.

"You're welcome."

They had made it to the front door when Arthur intercepted them. "Leaving so soon?"

"We're sorry, Arthur," Hermione said and gave him a quick hug.

"It's alright, some other time." Arthur freed his glasses from Hermione's mane and pushed them back up his nose. "I had no chance to ask you earlier, is it true you'll be St. Mungo's new Muggle liaison now that Esme retired?"

"I haven't decided yet, there's still so much to do that I don't know if I have enough time."

"You would be perfect. And think about all the wonderful things you could incorporate into your research, like those stitches I had!" For a moment Arthur's smile dimmed and he turned to Severus with a pained expression. "What a horrible evil thing that snake was, and you had it worse than me. I'm so glad you pulled through."

He clasped Severus shoulder and gave it a fatherly squeeze. "Now take your lady home." He let go of Severus and opened the door for them. "Don't let us wait that long for your next visit!"

Arthur smiled at them a last time and closed the door.

"Let's go home, Severus."

Severus had to clear his dry throat before he could speak. "Yes, let's go."

Severus wrapped his arms around her on the threshold and Apparated them straight into their bedroom.

"Another minute of Quidditch talk and I would have strangled Ginny," Hermione said. She leaned against Severus and slipped off her shoes. "The whole time she was going on about England's chances at the world cup. It's still a year away!"

"England's last qualification match is next week against Bulgaria."

"Then that's why she wanted to know if I'm still in contact with Viktor Krum. As if going to a ball with him fifteen years ago makes me an expert on the Bulgarian team."

"He's their new coach."

"He is? That's nice, I hope for his sake that they'll win."

"And I hope for your sake that you won't repeat that statement in Ginevra's earshot. I confess I find your aversion to Quidditch a tad unusual in a witch with wide interests."

"As long as it's up in the air and played on brooms, I'm not interested." She took off her earrings and put them in the jewellery box on her dressing table. Their bedroom had been just big enough to hold Severus's small bed and wardrobe to begin with, but with Hermione's furniture squeezed in and the bigger bed it was downright claustrophobic.

"I see. As I am the former teacher in this relationship please allow me to enlighten you." He leaned down and swept Hermione up in his arms.

"Severus! What are you doing?"

"Consider it a lesson in Quidditch theory."

Hermione put her arm around his shoulder and peered down at the floor. "You're not going to use your flying spell, are you? Any higher and I'll get sick."

"Let us begin," Severus said and threw Hermione on the bed without further notice. Her eardrum-piercing shriek would have put to shame a banshee and, in fact, sent poor old Crookshanks hurtling off the pile of dirty clothes stuffed under the dressing table in which he had dozed through their Apparition.

Severus pretended his ears were not ringing. "Blatching: flying with the intent to collide." He dove and landed next to Hermione, who scowled at him but pulled him closer when he crawled on top of her and let his forehead rest against hers.

"The Transylvanian Tackle, a fake punch to the nose to distract a player."

"Not so fake any more if you don't get to the point soon."

He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. "Patience, my dear, patience." With a swish of his wand all of their clothes vanished from their bodies with a small pop and reappeared folded in a tidy pile on the floor. Severus dropped his wand on top of it.

"You are such a neatness freak. Is that a legal move?"

"If you believe the rumours, yes. Obviously you don't pay close enough attention to the gossip column in the Daily Prophet's sports section."

"Ugh. I really didn't need to know that."

"Please concentrate on the lesson at hand." He pushed himself up to his elbows and planted a kiss on Hermione's shoulder. "Quidditch is much more than a hobby for the fan."

"Yes, I kind of noticed."

"Quiet." His nip of her upper arm resulted in a low moan. "They support their team," Severus slid a bit lower so he could better pay attention to his favourite parts of Hermione's anatomy, "through the ups and downs," a couple of kisses and licks to illustrate, "and practically worship the ground they fly over." His index finger stroked from Hermione's faded curse scar down to her belly.

"Go on. Please."

Her skin was smooth and warm to his touch. "They defend their team. They are devastated if they lose and ecstatic if they win. A real fan does not waver in his loyalty and sticks with his team no matter what."

Severus felt her running her fingers through his hair.

"They, ah... they cannot imagine their life without it. Not for one single day, hour, or minute. Not even a second."

"Severus."

He looked up.

There was a strange glitter in Hermione's eyes, but she smiled at him. "I know one or two things about Quidditch, too, even if I don't know the correct terms." Her hand sneaked down between them. "What's it called again when someone seizes the opponent's broom tail?"

Severus swallowed and tried to keep his eyes from crossing. "Blagging. That is considered a foul, actually."

"Really? Too bad." The sheets rustled as she spread her legs. "Don't you get a penalty shot when you got fouled?"

"Your sense for fair play is commendable. I should try to score then."

"Yes, you should."

He tried, and he did, much to the joy of everyone involved. Hermione demonstrated her understanding of the Starfish and Stick move, while Severus managed a Sloth Grip Roll shortly before the proceedings ended not so surprisingly in a draw. Hermione even suggested they schedule a rematch in the morning.

Life was good.

* * *

Severus woke up with a gasp, his pulse racing and his heart close to breaking.

"Nightmare again?" Hermione mumbled half-asleep and snuggled up to him.

Yes, a horrible nightmare that didn't have the decency to fade away. Oh the storyline ran together and bled away until only single snapshots stayed, but even now that he was awake the horribly sweet and sickeningly syrupy feelings from his dream stuck to his brain like candy floss. His subconscious had crossed a line with that dream. Was it possible to unthink a thought? Wise to cast Obliviate on himself?

"Ssh, I'm here," Hermione murmured, more asleep than awake. She nuzzled his chest and yawned. "It will be okay in a sec."

No, it wouldn't be. Not this time.

He had felt utter joy in his dream and it sucked the happiness out of reality. Normally he had boring run-of-the-mill dreams or nightmares either filled with longing for the things he could not have or loathing for the deeds he had done trying to obtain those things; it had always been that way and that part hadn't changed in the last few years. Only lately he then woke up to find Hermione holding him, the embodiment of his wishes come true, and it took the sting out of the recurring nightly horrors. This time she had been in his dream, though, and not only her. That was the problem.

The dream had torn a gaping hole into his life. Where before two had been the answer for the prayers of one, there it was now missing a third.

Severus Snape wanted a baby.


	2. Chapter 2

This couldn't wait. Severus and his subconscious needed to have a little chat. That required preparation, because the downside of being one of the most accomplished Occlumens in the wizarding world was the risk of Occluding one's own thoughts.

Severus crawled out of bed, careful not to wake Hermione, and crept down the stairs in his nightshirt.

The only things that could compromise his shields were large amounts of alcohol or extended contact with Harry bloody Potter. Irrespective of the fact that these days the Chosen One would probably be only too happy to assist Severus should he ever be so desperate to actually consider asking The Boy Who Couldn't Just Die And Stay Dead and thus take out all the potential fun of waking him up at three a.m. in the morning, extended contact with Potter also resulted in elevated blood pressure, the impulse to grind his teeth to dust and was generally bad for Snape's health. Hence the bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey he had stashed away under the kitchen sink for exactly such a purpose. Severus seldom drank: a consequence of growing up with an alcoholic father who beat his wife when sober and turned on his son when drunk. He mainly used it as a tool to loosen tongues, including his own.

It was a good thing the Dark Lord hadn't allowed alcoholic beverages at Death Eater meetings or Snape might have ended up as a corpse flambé on Nagini's menu.

Severus fetched the Firewhiskey and took a swig. Half a bottle later he had established contact with his subconscious. It wasn't happy with him, but what else was new?

_You should find another way to explore your feelings. You know that._

"Yes, yes, get on with it." Severus paced around the kitchen with his hands clasped behind him.

_That necklace you picked for Hermione's birthday is wonderful, but you should take her out for a romantic dinner-_

"Babies! Get back to the topic, what's that about a baby in my dream? Why do I suddenly want to become a father?"

_Not suddenly. You've been thinking about it for some time now._

He stopped short. "I haven't! That's ridiculous!"

_Then why are you always watching the children when you think no one is looking?_

"Someone has to keep an eye on Potter. Any Potter, no matter which generation."

_You wondered what it would feel like touching pregnant Ginevra's baby bump._

"Purely scientific interest."

_If you say so. And being angry when Ronald Weasley and his wife announced their pregnancy?_

Severus wanted to glare at his pesky subconscious. "I wasn't angry, I was annoyed. Sometimes I forget that I'm no longer a teacher and won't have to teach the next generation of Weasley pranksters."

_Bollocks. You were the odd man out again, watching others leading the life you think you will never have. Like you felt before I pointed out that you should give Hermione a chance. 'When you love someone, all your saved-up wishes start coming out.'_

"What the- stop that schmaltzy nonsense! I've gone mad, that's it, isn't it? Next I'll spout Beatles lyrics."

_She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah. Oh come on, Severus, your glower doesn't work on me._

"If you don't start making sense I'll go back to bed."

_Then I'll send you another dream. And another. Until you listen._

"I don't believe you. Why would I want children? I hate them. Babies are worse because they smell."

_Oh, please, you want to make me believe you are afraid of changing nappies? You work with smelly obnoxious ingredients every day. And no, you hate other people's children. Your and Hermione's child? That's a different kettle of fish. Being a parent doesn't obligate you to fawn over other people's spawn. Think of yourself as an old plush toy that sat on the shelf for its whole life. Now that Hermione cuddles you, the old stiff stitching comes loose and your soft filling spills out._

"That mental picture is disgusting in so many ways I can't count them all. I think I'm going to be sick." He pulled back a chair from the table and slumped down. "I don't know how to be a father."

_You'll learn. Just as you learned to be happy with Hermione. You are not your father and she is not your mother._

Severus rubbed over an old stain on the table top with his fingertip. "That's all well and good, but according to Molly Hermione doesn't want children."

_Just because she doesn't want a flock of red-haired children doesn't mean she won't have one with you._

"It's not something that has come up so far. What can I do? If that's the reason she broke up with Weasley-"

_Now that's the question, innit? I told you Weasley is not an issue here. Just ask her._

"I'm a Slytherin. I was a spy. I fooled the Dark Lord on a regular basis; I'll come up with a cunning plan."

_Or you could, you know, just ask her._

His fingers halted. "If I could convince her that it was her idea all along..."

_Yes, splendid idea. Or you just... you know what? Never mind. Try it your way first. Now that's sorted how about you loosen up a bit so we can have a chat without you royally pissed? If I didn't send you a dream from time to time you would never listen to me._

"Get stuffed."

_And nice talking to you, too. Ta-ra!_

So that was settled, then. He only had to shattegise - no, stratte-, _strategi-_ bloody hell was he pissed. He only needed a _plan_.

It took him three tries to pick up the vial from the table before him and pull the cork.

_I really think you should just ask-_

Snape swiftly downed the Sober-Up potion and winced when his temples turned into a painful throbbing mess. The instantaneous return to soberness was as pleasant as a blow to the head and had the same after effects, but he had much thinking to do.

Anyone who had ever witnessed Severus fight Dumbledore's orders tooth and nail before giving in to the inevitable would have been surprised how easily he came to terms with his epiphany, but it was simple, really. Unlike the old codger, Severus's subconscious truly had his best interest at heart. It didn't inflict lemon drops on him, either.

So how to make Hermione want a child? Severus scratched his chin. By presenting a child that embodied all the good reasons to have children. So far Hermione did not want children, ergo the child could not be a Potter or Weasley. Merlin knew that minus the last day all that brood had ever inspired in Severus over the years was a deep gratitude that he would never ever need to set foot in a classroom again.

It had to be one child then, singular, not children, plural horribilis. Severus found a quill and a sheet of paper in one of the drawers and jotted down a list of desirous attributes.

Well-behaved, quiet, intelligent, old enough to display said intelligence but not old enough to talk back.

Severus hesitated, then added good-looking to the list. He didn't harbour any illusions about the chances of them producing a Gilderoy Lockhart look-alike between them, but in his experience only loving parents overlooked unattractiveness in their offspring. Probably because their own ugly features were staring back at them.

Now, how to find such a child?

For some unfathomable reason Britain's wizarding parents did not go out of their way to invite him to their spawn's birthday parties. That is, all save one family. Although Severus had already declined he had to admit the child in question met his requirements to a 'T'.

Now he only had to inform Hermione and hope that she let him live.


	3. Chapter 3

They marched down the gravelled drive to a mansion at least five times the size of the old two-up, two-down at Spinner's End he had sold as soon as he could. If it had been human it would have been a refined and unpretentious old witch who would just raise one gracefully arched eyebrow and calmly call for a house-elf if something as tacky as a white peacock dared to show up on her front lawn.

"Tell me again why we're on our way to Scorpius Malfoy's birthday party?"

Severus slowed down to give Hermione the chance to keep up in her high heels. "Because I want to be seen with the newly appointed Muggle liaison of St. Mungo's?"

"There's not much prestige involved if nobody else wants the job."

"Then it's because Draco gave me the loan to start my own business after the war."

Hermione expressed her opinion of his explanation with an unladylike snort. "We both know you didn't really need that loan because you, being you, changed the lion's share of your teacher salary into pounds and deposited it on a savings account."

"A teacher's salary doesn't amount to much."

"Two decades worth of it do."

"The Bank of Scotland has a much better interest rate than the goblins. Are you accusing me of philanthropy?"

She patted his arm, a gesture that would have smacked of condescension if done by anyone but her. "Sorry, won't happen again. But you never went to one of his social things before."

"It is never only a social thing with families like the Malfoys, it is imperative to weigh the pros and cons carefully before accepting an invitation."

"Severus-speak for 'it's complicated'."

That was an understatement; the first time they had met again face to face after the war, Draco had just returned to England for Lucius's trial. It had been an awkward and painful affair. There were tears and a stuttered apology involved on Draco's part and a mixture of delayed gratification and unease on his, and although Severus was glad to see Draco finally grown up, it also rattled him to see the younger Malfoy humbled and missing his usual arrogance. So much so that he accepted his offer of an interest-free loan. Hermione was right that he hadn't strictly needed it, but it meant that he could afford to buy his new house before he found a buyer for the one on Spinner's End and fit his lab with the newest equipment.

After the cathartic experience of their first meeting he and Draco stuck to infrequent dinners, sometimes Floo-called and the rest of the time they corresponded by owl. However, Draco had started sending invitations to their social events after his wedding to Astoria Greengrass.

Draco had been raised to be a self-serving political beast. The war had changed him into the Malfoy equivalent of a philanthropist: still a political beast, still thinking of his family first, but using his brains for a change, and as he had climbed up the social ladder again with marrying a Greengrass he wanted to improve Severus's standing in society the only way he knew how. It was to his everlasting vexation that Severus didn't want to suck up to the high and mighty to influence public opinion of him.

Hermione pointed at the gift-wrapped shrunken box in Severus's hand. "I don't know if a measly Muggle scooter will satisfy a Malfoy, I mean, Scorpius is three. He probably owns more expensive toys than all Weasley grandchildren put together and a fleet of toy brooms to boot."

"That may be, but I'm positive he does not own a three-wheeled aluminium kick-scooter yet. I have a hard time picturing Draco shopping at Harrods."

Hermione didn't reply. Severus stopped and looked down into her drawn face. "Draco is not the boy you remember," he tried to reassure her. He watched how her hands smoothed down her skirt, fluttered up to her hair, then dropped again and played with her bracelet. "But we can turn back now and Floo-call him that an emergency at St. Mungo's came up."

They stood there for a few seconds in which Hermione fiddled with her necklace and mussed up her hairdo before she finally straightened and continued walking. "I promised Molly gossip. Don't sneer," she slipped her hand into his, "I'm counting on you to help me unearth all their dirty little secrets."

They walked the last few yards to the door in amiable silence. Only then did Severus let go of her hand to ring the bell.

They were greeted by a beady-eyed house-elf wearing a spotless blue uniform. "Welcome to the Malfoy residence, sir and madam. I am Blodder. Should I take the present for young master Scorpius? Please follow me."

Hermione's eyes had widened during the elf's accurate little speech. Blodder accepted the parcel from Severus with his spindly fingers and led them through the grand entrance hall to a porch at the rear side of the house. Their steps echoed on the stone tiles.

Severus smirked. Hermione was radiating curiosity; he estimated Blodder had another minute at most before her restraint broke and he would have to face a barrage of questions. Maybe the dignified house-elf recognised the _inquisitive gleam in Hermione's eyes, because at the door leading outside he bowed and after a squeaky "Enjoy your stay" directed at the ground he quickly Disapparated with a soft pop._

Hermione swivelled round to face Severus. "He was wearing clothes. And how he spoke... what does that mean?"

"There's a new fad among the pure-bloods who did not openly oppose the Dark Lord but did not agree with him, either. They don't want to get lumped together with his followers who got away and they use house-elf rights as their agenda."

"And Draco agrees?"

"From what I can gather he agrees with everything his wife proposes."

"That doesn't sound like the Draco Malfoy I knew."

"Which I have been telling you all along."

The former Greengrass elves had been horrified to have to accept a salary and only agreed to wear uniforms tailored out of towels, but Severus saw no reason to share that knowledge all at once.

What he hadn't told Hermione and was not going to, on the other hand, was that Draco had complained to Severus that his house-elves had a day off whenever he needed them; whatever for, he had not said, but having shared a common room with Lucius Severus guessed it involved a hair brush and a nail file.

Hermione bent forward and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Gossip has it that it's only a marriage of convenience?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "You can tell Molly she's wrong. If Draco was only after money and influence, he could have married Miss Parkinson. No, he is head over heels in love with Astoria, and I'd say she feels the same about him."

Draco had found his perfect match in her: she was a smart lady of society, good-looking in the cool and detached way the Malfoy men were suckers for, but most importantly, she kept him on his toes. Draco's life would have taken a different turn without her, and not for the better.

Severus's gaze was fixed on the carving on the wall panels without actually seeing it. "You could say Astoria is for Draco what you are for me."

He was startled out of his reverie when Hermione pecked him on the lips out of the blue. "What was that for?"

Hermione just smiled. He glanced around and, assured that they had no audience, put his hands on her waist and kissed her back. "What did I say?"

"Nothing," she said and shook her head, still that serene smile on her delicious lips. A few strands of her rebellious hair escaped her pinned updo and framed her face, making her look like a fairy queen. "I already like Astoria," Hermione said and started grinning. She skipped down the stairs into the garden. Maybe the queen of pixies, then. Severus trailed behind, puzzled but confident in his victory.

The Malfoy garden party and the Weasley equivalent didn't differ much in idea, only in scale. Instead of two rickety tables there were half a dozen with a cold buffet served on silver plates, decorative ice sculptures under stasis charms in the shape of fish and flowers and more house-elves in uniforms that served drinks to the eighty or so adults Severus could see standing around. A throng of children milled around the lawn safe distance from the refreshments. A couple of wizards in bright yellow robes stood by the hedge and piled up large boxes sporting the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes logo while a bit further down the lawn two witches in red opened bulky crates and bent down, apparently checking the contents.

Severus spotted Astoria and Draco talking to a member of the Wizengamot whose name eluded him at the moment. Scorpius was perched on his mother's arm with his face buried in her shoulder, leaving only platinum blonde hair and expensive tailored robes visible. He might have been asleep for all the reaction their arrival got out of him. Severus felt the first tendril of doubt reach for his plan trying to choke it like Devil's Snare. Astoria, on the other hand, was a dark-haired graceful witch, charming and equally polite to Severus and Hermione when she noticed them and came over.

"We are grateful that you could make it, Severus. Don't mind Scorpius, he is a bit shy. I'll go inside with him for a bit. We will have opportunity to catch up later, I hope. Miss Granger," she said and the two women exchanged a friendly nod.

She then kissed Draco on the cheek, who had torn himself away from his other guests and joined them, and left them alone. Scorpius's feet bobbed up and down with every one of her steps. Not once had he looked up, and Severus started to feel a bit queasy. It didn't make him feel better that the second Astoria's back was turned both Draco and Hermione assumed the polite society version of the duelling stance with stiff backs, arms close to the body and fake smiles that showed more teeth than Hagrid's accursed three-headed dog Fluffy.

"Thank you for coming, Severus, Gran- Miss Granger," Draco said through his smile.

"I'm always happy to meet a friend of Severus'," Hermione answered in the same polite tone of voice.

At the mention of his first name Draco winced and darted a glance at him. Severus suppressed a sigh. Children. Draco wouldn't be happy to know that Potter had winced in a similar fashion the first time he had met Severus and Hermione as a couple. It had been quite amusing, back then, until Severus had realised that the reason was jealousy and not disgust as he had initially thought.

Severus watched Hermione and Draco smiling some more while each of them was looking at him to put them out of their misery.

"Yes, yes, we're happy to be here, Draco." He awkwardly put his arm around Draco's shoulder in what he hoped was a fatherly fashion; it wasn't like he had a well of positive memories of his father to draw on. He had to have done something right because Draco's face lit up like the Christmas tree in the great hall. Severus hastily crossed his arms before his chest. "Tell, how is your mother faring in France?"

"Oh, she's doing fine. She sends her love."

"She's not here?" Hermione asked and craned her neck like she waited for Narcissa to jump out of the hedge. Severus could not blame her after her war experiences with the Malfoys. He knew she had only accompanied him because she knew how much it meant to him, even if she didn't know why it did.

"Mother feels that her presence here would make some of the guests uncomfortable and she doesn't want to spoil Scorpius's big day," Draco said in matter-of-fact manner without a hint of resentment.

Severus nodded. Lucius had been the driving force behind following the Dark Lord, and Narcissa didn't begrudge Severus his role as spy since he had saved her son. For the majority of the magical population, on the other hand, Narcissa was a persona non grata for different reasons depending on which side they had been on during Voldemort's reign.

"You have organised a lovely party for him," Hermione said with more warmth in her voice. "I see you bought from Weasleys's Wizard Wheezes?"

Draco nodded. "They have the best fireworks. We also hired the Magical Menagerie for the day. They are new in the business, but Astoria's sister recommended them."

"Really? I read about them in an article in the Prophet. It sounds fascinating! George, um, George Weasley, told me they were looking into making a deal with them. About selling miniature figurines, of course, not the big puppets."

Severus only listened with half an ear while he scanned the crowd. The novelty of seeing him and Hermione together hadn't worn off, apparently, judging by the curious and in some cases downright hostile looks they got.

"Let's take a look, Severus, shall we? I want to know if they're as life-like as everybody says they are."

Hermione waved at Draco who waved back - Severus had no idea how that could have happened in the thirty seconds he hadn't paid attention - and dragged Severus through the throng of guests. Nobody met Severus's eye, but in their wake he could hear them whisper "much too young", "her teacher" and, of course, "Death Eater" and "murderer". Severus ground his teeth and pushed on; if Hermione heard them too, she didn't show it, and he didn't want to draw her attention to those cretins. He was forced to let go of her arm and fell behind when a stocky young wizard stood in his way and jostled him.

"Over here," Hermione called.

Severus looked up and saw a gigantic snake fly straight at him.

* * *

Severus slunk into the bedroom where Crookshanks snored loudly in the laundry basket and Hermione was already in bed and, as a heroic sacrifice to her sense of duty, read the revised edition of Charm Your Own Cheese that Molly had given her for Christmas. The prospect of Molly finally going one cookbook too far and finding herself looking down the business end of Hermione's wand, as amusing as it was, failed to cheer him up this time. A shower had not been enough to wash away the horrors of the day. He dove under the covers and closed his eyes.

"Draco Flooed. There will be no problem with the puppeteers from the Magical Menagerie."

The less said about it the better. It was testament of the trials of he had endured that he did not feel even the tiniest spark of lust when he snuggled up to Hermione. The day had gone downhill the minute they had entered the Malfoy garden. Only a few people invited, Draco had said. A small affair. Severus should have known that the Malfoy version of a few people meant at least a hundred, most of them parents with children under five. Thanks to the Malfoys the plan had gone tits up and he now needed a new one.

"Apparently the company wanted compensation at first because you blasted their snake to smithereens, but when Astoria pointed out that it was their employee who had lost control over it and that children could have been hurt if you hadn't acted, they were quick to apologise."

Scorpius had been a disappointment. Oh, it was possible that he actually was the well-mannered child Severus had pictured and hoped on, but as far as Malfoy egos and their need to be the constant centre of attention were concerned, the boy was seriously lacking. A Malfoy with performance anxiety? Lucius would not be amused.

That is not to say that Lucius had much to be amused about nowadays, even with the Dementors gone from Azkaban. Draco hadn't mentioned him, and Severus had seen no point in asking.

"I've been thinking," Hermione began, still frowning at the picture of a glowing Shropshire Blue, and Severus perked up at her tone. Maybe not all was lost yet.

"I didn't want to say anything earlier-"

"Yes?"

"-did you also have that feeling that, well, -" Severus scrambled on his elbows and Hermione finally looked at him with her warm brown eyes, "-is Draco going bald?"

Fuck fuckity fuck fuck.

Severus slumped back into his pillow. This year Draco would find no Bleaching Potion under the Christmas tree.


	4. Chapter 4

After a good night's sleep Severus had calmed down. Hermione kissed him goodbye and Flooed to work at St. Mungo's, and Severus climbed down the cellar stairs to his potion's lab. Here in his private lair he chopped ingredients, the potions bubbled in their cauldrons and when the air was filled with the familiar fumes of a lifetime he could concede that the debacle was his fault. It had been a long shot to begin with and had hinged on a factor Severus had no control over. Well, he wouldn't make the same mistake twice. The potions were all simmering at uncritical stages, so Severus wiped his hands, made a pot of tea upstairs and had a cuppa in his makeshift office in the second cellar room he had moved into so that Hermione could have his upstairs office. Theoretically the upstairs room was big enough for the two of them, but he had fled from Hermione's clutter. Her creativity thrived on chaos, on heaps of haphazardly stacked books stuffed with colour-coded bookmarks until they looked like rainbow-coloured hedgehogs while his mind needed order to unfold its potential.

He sipped the hot tea while he thought some more. So, phase two of his plan. Backup plans were for Gryffindors who rushed in without thinking; Slytherins crafted plans that covered every possible outcome. His gaze fell on the rickety bookshelf crammed with obscure potions texts and it occurred to him that he had better check something else first.

On the bottom jammed between two unwieldy tomes stood the plain slim hand-written book that Severus needed. He plucked it from the shelf and opened it. The journal had been written by a mediaeval witch with a dreadful scrawl, gathering the potions she needed for her daily work as midwife. Only his years of marking homework enabled Severus to decipher the chicken scratches.

After his coma he had to deal with the fallout of Nagini's venom. For the first weeks he suffered from dizziness, numb fingers and toes and, most annoying, temporary loss of his voice. Strangely enough the venom had also solved his oily hair problem, at least temporarily. These after-effects only lasted a month, but Healer Smethwyck had warned him that he might face more permanent long-term effects, most notably sterility and impotence. What a glorious morning it had been when, about two months after that, Severus had woken up to find his todger proudly greeting the day. He hadn't wasted a thought on sterility, as far as he had been concerned his equipment had done everything Severus needed it for. Maybe it still did, but he had to make sure of that.

He was looking for the Sterility Solution, a simple but reliable way to test if a man could sire children. Of course there were newer and more sophisticated fertility potions; Severus regularly brewed them for St. Mungo's. Their colour could tell a healer if Mr Bollywoggle's chances to spawn little Bollywoggles would improve if he stopped smoking and swore off the Ogden's, but they also took at least two days to brew. Severus didn't want to risk Hermione walking into his lab and asking which one of the hospital's patients the potion was for.

Severus thumbed through the book, stopped and turned back two pages. Well, if push came to shove he could volunteer to take that Seahorse Elixir here and carry their child himself. He read the instructions until he came to the next page that had a crude illustration drawn next to the recipe. Severus did a double take, carefully crossed his legs and decided he would rather endure hour after hour of Cruciatus before doing something that foolish.

Enough time wasted; on the next page he finally found what he had been looking for. He skimmed through the page and nodded to himself; he had just enough of the needed ingredients left for one dose. Excellent.

With all the necessary ingredients arranged in orderly rows on one side of the cauldron and the journal put on the other, Severus started brewing in his lab. It wasn't challenging work. The crucial factors were to add the sperm sample directly into the potion and not collect it first in a cup or it might get contaminated, and to do so not later than, here Severus craned his neck and squinted, not later than fifty minutes after adding the Belladonna seeds.

Severus set the Matty, the magical timer used by potioneers all around the globe named after its inventor Hatty McLeod - a genius tinkerer with no sense of time but a solid business acumen to make up for it - , stirred the rod one last time and dropped the purple seeds into the cauldron.

There was enough time to let the potion cool down, decant a tumblerful and go up into the bedroom, fetch the old edition of Playwizard hidden under his side of the mattress, settle down to some pleasurable business and collect the spoils.

"Miaow."

"Get out, you flea-ridden oversized mouser! Shoo!"

Crookshanks obviously was in no mood to listen. He jumped on the table and landed on the battered journal.

"You know you aren't allowed in here!"

"Miaow!"

Severus grabbed the protesting half-Kneazle, threw him out of the lab and closed the door behind him. The potion was undisturbed, but the book had fallen off the table. A tiny flake of dirt crumbled off the page when he picked it up and dusted off the paper with his hand. Where there had been written a comfortable fifty only seconds ago was now a challenging five.

Five minutes.

For ten precious seconds out of that five minutes Severus's mind went blank; then the adrenaline rush set in and he bustled about the lab with hectic activity. First he tapped his wand on the Matty and changed it to five minutes; it changed its colour from a friendly blue to a nice orange and hummed at a low frequency. If this batch was ruined Severus had to wait and order new ingredients before he could try again, but with the potions he had to start today because Potter's new Auror recruits had walked into a training trap and set a new record on acting stupid, his tight working schedule in the next days to catch up on his regular orders and the weekend looming he would lose a whole week. But only five minutes...

The Matty hummed louder and the dial emitted a yellow glow.

… but only four minutes and thirty seconds left. Apparition with the potion at this stage was out of the question, hurrying up to the bedroom would take too much time. He couldn't just drop his pants in his lab. It was unsanitary, and how would he be able to work here in the future? That left the office. A flick of his magic wand - the wooden one - and the door to his office flew open with a loud bang, the cauldron and the Matty floated over to his desk with Severus close behind.

Four minutes.

Severus ripped off his robe and pulled his trousers and pants down in one go. It was awfully chilly in his office, he hadn't really noticed before.

The Matty grew louder.

"Alright, alright!"

How hard could it be? Severus looked down. Not hard at all, unfortunately. He took matters into his hand. A fantasy, but which one? The one of them under a Disillusionment Charm and Hermione giving him a blowjob at Flourish and Blotts and they had to be careful not to be caught? Sex in the restricted section at Hogwarts after hours? Hermione as the librarian punishing him for stealing a book? And what the hell was wrong with him that all his fantasies contained books?

The Matty chimed once. Severus took a deep breath, closed his eyes and got to work. The time they came back from Arthur's party. Oh, that was nice. The curve of Hermione's hips under his hands. Yes, that was working. The Matty chimed again, at a higher frequency and reminded Severus that while it was nice that he had fun he better hurry up and finish sooner rather than later, how about in the next two minutes, 'kay?, and Severus dug out one of his most prized memories, so precious to him he seldom thought of it lest he tainted and distorted it somehow.

Their first time together, how Hermione had shoved him against the door, all pushy and gloriously determined and how they had ripped their robes in their haste and how his knees had gone weak when she had moaned in his ears, like they did now and he put down his free hand on the desk for support, ignoring that the chime in the background turned into an aggressive buzzing, the signal that only one minute was left, and that the edge of the desk top cut into his thighs, because that only reminded him how they had ended up on the stairs and he had ripped her stockings off and she had dug her heels into his backside to have him closer, closer and she had been so hot and he had lost it and oh Hermione she was and he was and they were and oh fuck yes now yes...

Severus bucked once, twice, in sync with the magical timer that skipped and skidded over the desk, then quickly opened his eyes and witnessed through the curtain of stringy hair that clung to his sweaty face that he was bang on target and right on time, too, because the Matty wailed one last time and tipped over. The potion in the cauldron was the same dull brown colour as before, rather anticlimactic really, but the whole process took one to two minutes before there was a reliable result. Severus hobbled over to the chair on shaky knees, made a half-hearted attempt to pull his pants up where they belonged and then just gave up and slumped down with his briefs dangling around his ankles. Short fuse, loud bang, just like their first time only less embarrassing. He had been mortified, Hermione disappointed, but she had let him make it up to her, twice, before they went at it again and it was perfect.

A tiny bubble broke the potion's surface and burst with a soft pop, then another, and another. A golden oily sheen formed before at last a sparkling mist rose in triumph from the cauldron and spread over the ceiling, a swirling and pulsing testament to Severus's fertility.

Severus leaned back his head to enjoy the view. He was feeling rather chuffed with himself. The answer to his other question suddenly seemed pretty obvious to his mellowed mind; it was swimming in that cauldron right now. Not literally, of course, but he realised he had put the cart before the horse. Instead of dangling children in front of her nose he had to circumvent her impressive higher brain functions and appeal to her animalistic side, the part of her that acted on instinct and checked men against the evolutionary blue print that said 'father material'. It was also obvious to him that he needn't bother trying to fit into the 'protector' or 'provider' blue print; Hermione was a powerful witch more than capable to protect herself, and she knew only too well how much money Severus made. No, he would go the carnal route.

Severus was a thin man, had been downright skinny even for as long as he could remember, but after Nagini's attack he had lost so much weight he couldn't spare to begin with that he had resembled a gaunt Inferius. His muscles had atrophied and while he had gained a stone again with time he hadn't regained his old strength. At Hogwarts he used to walk miles during the day, from down in the dungeons up to the Great Hall during meals and to the Astronomy Tower during his rounds and through the Forbidden Forest to collect ingredients and didn't break sweat, but lately he had become complacent and sluggish. Nevertheless, Severus was top-notch father material and before long Hermione would come to realise that, too, yes indeed. In phase two of his plan he would put an end to the deplorable state of his body and get back into shape. Although it was high time to buff himself up he could do so step by step in addition to his other undertakings.

Reproduction was essentially a matter of biology, and from now on he would remember to treat it as such. He was potent, and Hermione was young. They had plenty of time.

* * *

Severus was running out of time. Time, stamina and pain killers; why on earth had he been too chintzy to brew one last batch again? He slowly heaved his aching body into their bed without his usual grace. Luckily for him, Hermione was engrossed in perusing The Official Highway Code - this was the latest requirement in order to fulfil the ridiculous new tightened Ministry regulations for Muggle liaisons - or he would have been forced to put on the graceful potions master persona for her and risk grievous injury.

In the beginning he had started out slow with taking the stairs in the house at a run at least ten times a day and Apparating to a location a mile off his destination when going out and walking the rest of the distance. He now dropped off his potions for St. Mungo's in person instead of sending the sturdy owl all their potion suppliers were provided with. This had the advantage that he could pry Hermione out of her lab and treat her to lunch in the cafeteria.

After the first week had passed with no apparent progress, he became impatient and upped the ante. He started to clean his cauldrons by hand, scrubbing their encrusted and stained bottoms until their shiny surfaces reflected his face. While it was an oddly meditative experience and improved the dexterity of his fingers, it wasn't the full-body workout the rumblings of his pupils about their detentions had led him to believe.

Really, had he known sooner he would have found something worse for the spoiled brats to do.

After the second week with neither any muscle gain nor any leisure time to speak of due to all the extra hours he spent scrubbing and walking, Severus was ready to explore new avenues. Instead of just scrubbing his cauldrons he used them as dumb-bells. He started with the standard size two copper cauldron, just the right weight and felt good in his hand, and that went so well that he soon worked his way forward to the big knee-high kettle lovingly called the Macbeth by connoisseurs. That resulted in a pulled muscle and a dent both in his ego and the cauldron respectively and was the reason he resumed taking the pain reliever slash muscle formation potion he had to take after his coma. Luckily he had one vial left and was thus spared the humiliation of being seen buying the potion. He couldn't lift his injured arm to open the bottle, let alone brew with it. He used his teeth to uncork the vial.

Thereafter he changed back to the middle-sized weights, just in case, and brewed a month's supply of his potion.

With his arms and chest nicely taken care of in his training workload he was looking for a way besides the stairs to improve the muscles in the rest of his body. In Hermione's book case stood a book on yoga, but the Macbeth debacle was fresh in Severus's mind. He didn't want to sigh out his soul on the bedroom rug knotted up like a pretzel, so yoga was out.

He needed to go on a mushroom foray anyway, so he Apparated deep into the forest and just started to run. His lungs soon burned and his thighs protested but he ploughed on, only stopping long enough to transfigure his boots to trainers and his dress trousers into black _tracksuit bottoms after an oncoming jogger had eyed him suspiciously to then give him a wide berth. His shirt he left as it was; the collar concealed the snake bite scar on his neck and the long sleeve covered the fine silvery scar where his Dark Mark had been._

He frightened an old lady with her dog when he crashed through the underbrush back onto the path only a few yards from her. The malicious part of him gleefully registered that he still had it in him to spread terror only to have the woman ask if he was alright, her poor husband had looked that red in the face before he had his heart attack, just a minor one don't worry, but wouldn't it be better to slow down and make an appointment for a check-up just in case? She droned on and on until Severus was out of earshot, but her unleashed terrier followed him.

Severus tried to outrun the nasty bugger, but the dog, tongue lolling and wagging its stubby tail, chased him happily around the lake until Severus slipped on a wet stone, lost his balance and landed in the smelly water with a loud splash. The resident swans were a bit aggressive - nothing a well-aimed hex didn't solve - and the cool water was invigorating, so no harm done. He should have felt mortified and threatened the swans to stay away or he would pluck their feathers one by one and manufacture them into quills to then Disapparate in disgust and order his mushrooms at Slug & Jiggers, but he didn't. Instead, he felt gorgeously alive with the blood rushing through his veins and a rivulet of cool water running down his back. Somewhere between running for his life and swallowing a pound of duckweed his physical awareness had come out of hibernation.

He waded back to the shore and splashed the yapping dog with the water he wrung from his hair. Too bad Hermione couldn't see him rise from the waves like a demi god, his white shirt clinging to his wet flushed body warmed by the summer sun; the whole scene could have been lifted straight out of one of her Regency romances. Severus sniffed at his shirt. Apart from the smell, of course. Oh well, he had started to take three showers a day anyway, to keep his activities secret from Hermione.

That secrecy was now about to end. Severus lifted his stiff legs one by one, and accomplishing that was no small feat, then rolled on his side and arranged his limbs in a suggestive pose. For weeks now he hadn't disrobed in front of Hermione, slept in his old nightshirt and made love to Hermione in the dark to maximise the surprise effect. He had sacrificed his leisure time to run, lift weights and cook a whole meal at noon because his appetite had gone through the roof. Every muscle in his body screamed in agony but it had been worth it.

His naked skin glistened in the candle light because of the oil he had carefully applied, in agony in some difficult to reach places. He didn't have a stitch on; he had thought about investing in new underwear and in the end decided against it. He'd seen a nice pair of briefs in Slytherin green when they'd been shopping for Scorpius's birthday present, though, that he only hadn't gone back for because he wasn't sure if the string in the back wouldn't chafe.

Severus knew the time for the grand reveal had come when the bathroom mirror whistled at him when he came out of the shower.

Hermione had yet to look up from her book. Severus coughed.

"Just this paragraph."

Severus coughed again and finally she put down her book and looked up.

"I'm all ears- oh." She poked at his pectoral muscles, pinched his upper arm and then withdrew her hand as if burnt. "So I wasn't wrong. You did feel different," she said at last.

Severus thought she appeared rather pensive than surprised; had to be the light playing tricks on his eyes. Maybe he should have waited until after her test, but there was no turning back now. "Like what you see?"

She rubbed her thumb and index finger together and sniffed at her hand. "Did you use my body oil?"

"Come closer and find out," he purred and slipped his hand under her nightgown.

She frowned. "Again?"

"I didn't know it was such a great hardship for you."

"It's just, we did it yesterday."

"So?"

"Twice. And the day before."

"I fail to see your point."

"And the day before that." She bit her lip and looked up at him. "Is this about me being so busy lately? It's not much longer, I promise." She shoved her book under the pillow as if to emphasise her point. "I know driving lessons three times a week is a bit much, but I want to get it over with. Look, now that I've passed the theoretical part it's only the practical test left."

"It's not about your driving license. I don't need a special reason to desire you. In fact, if you're that worried about your test, why don't you take lessons on the remaining week days, too?"

"Um. Really?"

"Yes, I don't mind."

"Oh. You don't. Huh."

Severus leered at her. "Now, where were we?"

Hermione picked up his hand and planted a quick kiss on his knuckles. "Sorry, I'm just tired, with work and the driving lessons. Another time okay?"

Without waiting for his response she blew out the candle on her bedside cabinet, lay down and turned her back to him. Severus blinked against the sudden darkness as he went through their conversation again. Not subtle enough or just plain bad timing? Not yet ready to admit defeat he decided to try one last time with his best move: the back rub. He felt his way across the bed under the cover until his fingertips reached Hermione and then ran his hand up her back in one long stroke. Her shoulder was tensed and hard under his fingers. He gently dug in and kneaded the stiff muscles, but unfortunately it wasn't working that night. He waited for a reaction, a sigh, a purr, but nothing. When he peeked over her shoulder at last he could see in the dim moonlight shining through a gap in the curtains that Hermione's eyes were closed. Apparently she was fast asleep.

In a way he was relieved. Disappointed as well, yes, but the physical exertion of the last few weeks had left him exhausted. A night off wouldn't hurt. On the contrary, he could use a good night's sleep, just this once, to renew the strength for when Hermione was in the mood to rip his clothes off and test his newly found agility. He yawned and pulled the blanket up to his chin. At least she hadn't been able to take her eyes off him, he thought and smirked in the darkness. Everything was still going according to plan.

He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep blissfully unaware of his surroundings, and although he might have subconsciously registered if Hermione got up soon after, he wouldn't have been able to remember it in the morning.


	5. Chapter 5

Severus sat alone in the waiting room in Cheltenham and, well, waited. He had made the appointment the week before from a phone box outside of the Leaky Cauldron. It had been the day after his hard-earned new muscles failed to impress Hermione. Instead of hurrying home to him she had sent an owl that afternoon that she would be home later because she wanted to visit Ginevra. Severus had done some fast thinking and used the opportunity to sneak out before he lost his nerve. If Hermione had reacted in a more positive way in the days after he might have cancelled, but that hadn't happened. Instead she had gone from one extreme to the other, sometimes ignoring him and then snapping at him the next second. Obviously his plan was a victim of bad timing. She was so nervous about her driving test she couldn't relax. Exams had always had that effect on her, and that it was a practical exam and she couldn't control the drivers in the cars around her scared her. She didn't say so, but he knew her.

To keep it a secret he had scheduled his appointment for the time Hermione had her driving test. She didn't want him around anyway. Severus had joked that he would hex her driving instructor if she didn't pass, wouldn't that motivate her to pass to save him because that's what Gryffindors did?, but she didn't appreciate his stab at humour.

When he had come in the receptionist, a slip of a girl that looked like a strong gust of wind could sweep her away, had accepted his NHS card without batting an eye. There was no reason why she shouldn't have. It was legit after all. Back when he had turned spy and still harboured the illusion that he would someday lead a normal life, he had made preparations in case he had to hide among the Muggles. As far as the British state was concerned, Severus was running a small rather unsuccessful florist business from home but always paid his taxes.

Severus drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair. The walls were plastered with posters of men and woman with unnaturally bright smiles. The sight of the advertising pictures made Severus uncomfortable until he realised that he expected them to move. In the corner stood a glass cabinet displaying a variety of teeth that may have either once belonged to mediaeval torture victims or were the unfortunate result of a Splinching accident in a hardware store. In Severus's opinion no part of the human body should be fused with metal in any way.

The door opened and the receptionist's head appeared in the doorway. "Mr Snape? Please come with me."

Severus followed her into a dentist's room with pastel-coloured walls. There were several photographs hanging on one side of the room that were clearly taken by an amateur judging by the composition of the image, showing a beach scenery and a desert landscape respectively. Severus believed to make out a very young Hermione in one of them.

"Please have a seat and Mr Granger will be with you momentarily."

The receptionist left his chart on a cabinet by the door and left him alone with the chair monstrosity in the middle of the room. He gingerly slipped behind the tablet attached to it and sat down. Doing so he gave up the psychological advantage his height granted him, but he figured that appearing harmless would benefit him more in this situation. On the tablet lay a collection of pointy sharp instruments. Severus frowned. Not one of them looked like a more professional version of a tooth brush, even though there was a small sink next to the chair.

The door opened and a short older man rushed in. "Sorry you had to wait. My wife is off at a conference and we hold the fort here."

Hermione's father was in his early sixties, had a shock of curly grey hair and laugh lines in his friendly open face. He took the chart the receptionist had left and opened it. "You're here for a scale and polish, Mr... Snape?" His head snapped up and he eyed him suspiciously. "Are you Hermione's Severus Snape?"

"Yes, indeed. Pleased to finally make your acquaintance."

From the look of his face, Mr Granger seemed to think otherwise but was too well-bred to voice his reservations out loud. "So you're not here for a cleaning?" he asked with a frown and sat down on the little stool next to the dentist chair.

"I am. There are potions for that," he hastened to explain when Mr Granger opened his mouth to interrupt him, "but they are too efficient, leaving the teeth looking as bright as on the posters in your waiting room."

"I'd say my patients would prefer such a... potion... if they had access to it."

"The average wizard does, too. I, on the other hand, don't want to draw too much attention to my teeth."

Mr Granger's gaze dropped to Severus's mouth. "I understand." Then his professionalism seemed to kick in. "Well, let's take a look then." He tapped his foot and Severus jumped when the chair under him began to move and buzz. Down went the backrest and with it Severus until he thought he would slip onto the floor. It stopped just as he grabbed for the armrest.

"Open up, please." There was a metallic scraping sound from the instruments before him, but Severus couldn't see what happened because he was blinded by the lamp hanging over his head. In that moment Severus began to question his judgement in earnest, but it was too late to leave. He resigned himself to his fate and opened his mouth. Above him Mr Granger made a sound of surprise and moved the lamp further down, but the new view on the clinical white ceiling panels was no real improvement.

"Astonishing. Your magic potions would be the end of our practice." The cold metal shaft of the tool in Mr Grangers's hand first pressed against Severus's upper lip, then into the corner of his mouth while the dentist assessed the situation before he got down to work. "How strange to meet you like that. Hermione hasn't been around much the last years, but you know that of course. It's difficult, with her being a witch."

"Ngannk."

"Of course, of course, you're right. Aren't you half Muggle? I think I remember Hermione telling us. But one day she's playing in the sandpit and the next she's pointing her stick at us and ships us off to Australia!" Gordon emphasised his point by wielding the dental mirror in his hand like a wand.

"She apologised, of course, but I doubt that she fully understands how scary you magical folk can be to us lowly Muggles. How are we supposed to defend ourselves against magic? It's impossible."

As Gordon scraped along his sensitive gums with a very sharp, very pointy and quite scary dental probe Severus reminded himself that he was no coward, never had been, and wouldn't develop dental fear this late in his life.

"When she was home from that school of yours during the holidays we had our little girl back, at least for the first years. We'd go skiing or visit France, have family dinners. Stuff we did before, like going out together. Minnie just loves the cinema, I think she inherited it from us, and from what she told us she missed it because the magical world doesn't know anything like it."

Severus firmly clasped his hands in his lap. Hermione would never forgive him if he hexed her father.

"Doris and I watched a film on our first date. You've heard of Laurence Olivier? No? Bloody good actor, yes he was. Played a dentist in the movie. Sure you haven't heard of it? Ah well."

"Ngaaah."

"Don't talk, please, Severus. May I call you Severus? Yes? Call me Gordon. You know, now that I think of it, we're lucky that Hermione found you. Careful, don't move around so much. Alright, we weren't happy that you're, well, no need to beat around the bush, that you were her teacher. I mean, would you be happy? That could hurt a little, here. There. Where was I? Ah yes, she wouldn't be happy with a Muggle, we can see that now. Magic is part of her, but we're part of her too, you know? I mean, Ronald was a nice bloke, but can you see him in a cinema or picture him sitting down in this chair?"

Severus couldn't, but then a sand storm blew around his teeth and rasped his gums raw and from that position Weasley's lack of originality seemed almost admirable. Gordon was on a roll, scratching, sandblasting and talking without interruption. Severus hadn't decided yet if Hermione's father genuinely liked him or was a serious aspirant for Voldemort's succession.

After what felt like an eternity Gordon allowed him to close his mouth again. "That's it, we're finished."

He tapped his foot and the blood flowed back from Severus's head to his extremities when the chair slid back into its starting position. "It was nice talking about the whole situation. Getting it off my chest so to speak, it's not like we have someone who understands. You can rinse your mouth with water if you want. Why don't you and Minnie come 'round for dinner some time? Doris will be thrilled to meet you. Ha, boy will she be miffed when I tell her she missed you!"

* * *

Severus fidgeted in his favourite armchair, the only piece of furniture in the living room apart from the book shelves that hadn't come from Hermione's old flat and therefore, even though it was old, threadbare and worn out from use, his sitting accommodation of choice when he was in need of comfort. He had heard the expression squeaky-clean before, of course, but never imagined it could be used to describe the inside of his mouth. If he wasn't careful his tongue might slip on a tooth, fall down the stairs and break its neck. He vaguely remembered shaking Gordon's hand and leaving the surgery on wobbly knees.

There was a loud crack from the kitchen and a few seconds later Hermione stormed in. "I did it! Piece of cake, ha!" She performed a little victory dance involving jumping around and waving with her arms that was remotely reminiscent of the rain dance of the Native American witches and wizards he had read about.

"Congratu- oomph." Before he could stand up she flopped down on his lap and kissed him. It was just starting to get interesting when she suddenly pulled back and stared at his mouth.

"What's with your teeth?"

"I had a scale and polish. Your father sends his love."

She blinked several times. "My father? What... you and... oh dear."

Severus began to suspect that contacting her parents might have been a serious lapse in judgement on his part, even when it had seemed the perfect solution - impress Hermione; ensure the Grangers' grandparental support for his hypothetical child since he didn't have any living relatives left and even if he did he wouldn't let them near a child of his because neither the Snapes nor the Princes had been known for their nurturing skills; improve his appearance - when Hermione threw her arms around his neck and tried to squeeze the life out of him.

"You... you!" She laughed, giggled in his ear, then laughed some more like a hyena.

Severus gently loosened her arms from his windpipe until he could breathe freely again and waited for her to calm down a bit. "We should go out and celebrate."

Hermione put her head on his shoulder and sighed with pleasure. "You mean because I have finally my driving licence that gets the Ministry off my back and my life can go back to normal, and my boyfriend tells me he met my father and both lived to tell the tale?"

She leaned back again, one hand still slung around his neck, and wiped tears of laughter from her eyes with her free hand. "Good idea."

Severus sneered at being called anybody's boyfriend like he was a teenager.

"It's a good thing you didn't go for a brace, too, or it would've ruined a perfectly good sneer."

That reminded him of what he had learned from Gordon. "Let us go to the cinema, Minnie."

Her eyes widened comically, but she pulled herself together again and smirked. "Splendid idea, Sevvie."

"Touché, madam."

"We can catch the late show. But first," Hermione wiggled on his lap, "we should have a celebration in private. I'm sorry that I've been so beastly lately. Now, let me show you just how much I appreciate my beefy brainy boyfriend."

Before Severus could sneer again she had grabbed him by the neck and pulled him into a passionate kiss. They didn't make it to the cinema that night, but for once Severus didn't worry about a change of plan because phase two was finally paying off. Indeed, he would call it a raving success.

* * *

They rescheduled their cinema visit for a day later. Before they could enjoy their evening out, however, Severus had to endure his second meet-the-parents experience in as many days; this time without any sharp pointy dental instruments, though. Hermione wanted to tell her parents about her driving licence in person and borrow their car. Severus's welcome was warm. Doris Granger, a small wiry woman with a short pixie haircut that emphasised the brown eyes that Hermione had inherited, seemed happy to meet him.

"Finally we get to know the mystery man," she said when she shook his hand and then threw a pointed glance at Hermione who acted as if she didn't notice it. "Does that mean now we can come visit and actually see how you live in London?"

Interesting. He gave Hermione an inquiring raised eyebrow, but she only shrugged without embarrassment. Their house was indeed Unplottable, that and the proximity to Diagon Alley had actually been the deciding factors for Severus to buy it even though the place could use a redecoration, but even if the Grangers couldn't have found it on their own just by the address Hermione could have picked them up and Apparated them over anytime. From the other equally subtle remarks her mother made it was clear Hermione had nipped any of their attempts to meet him in the bud right from the start.

"Sorry 'bout that," she whispered into his ear when she led him out to a set table on the porch while her parents were in the kitchen to fetch the tea, "but I knew you weren't keen to meet them, and the few times Ron came with me it was a disaster. I wanted to give everybody enough time to get used to the idea of us together and organise a meeting when the time is right, probably just after hell froze over."

"It's moments like these that prove without a doubt that you are the perfect woman for me."

"Try to hang on to that feeling when Mum dishes out her sugar free scones."

She hadn't exaggerated. After his first bite the conversation that ensued during tea went without his contribution because he was too busy surreptitiously washing away the tasteless but persistent remnants of the aforementioned pastry from his mouth. He reached for the jam but Hermione intercepted his hand and squeezed it. When their parents were looking at each other for a moment she shook her head ever so slightly and let go of his hand. Severus reached for the butter instead. Fat wasn't bad for your teeth, or was it? If it was then the Grangers had found a substitute for butter that tasted just like the original.

"What I don't understand, why did you have to get your driving licence?" Gordon asked Hermione when he filled her cup again, but it was Doris who answered him.

"It probably has to do with her job as the hospital's Muggle liaison, isn't that right, sweetie?"

Hermione, bless her, explained the issue without using the words paper-shuffler, politics or nepotism once.

"The Ministry has passed new regulations to ensure that a Muggle liaison can work with and get on with Muggles. You know how they are, I think they're worrying more about us embarrassing the Ministry than finding someone who is genuinely interested in an exchange of knowledge on both sides."

"They should have told you about their plans to change the regulations before they offered you the job," Doris chimed in.

"Yes, that would have only been fair," Gordon added.

"Anyway, since I don't have an O.W.L. in Muggle Studies or regular Muggle A-levels - I think they included that option for the Muggleborns who left Hogwarts during the war - I had the choice to either have a test at the Ministry more or less like the Muggle Studies exam at Hogwarts or get a Muggle driving licence. They even awarded a small grant." Hermione smiled, although she knew the politics involved in the change as well as Severus did; Severus had asked Draco about it and he had delivered.

The truth was, while the old pure-blood families had at first dismissed the new Muggle cooperation decree after Voldemort's fall as solely driven by the need to be seen to be doing something and not worth their time or effort, they now recognised the potential to gain influence and wanted a share of the cake. It had taken years to establish the necessary infrastructure without violating the Statute of Secrecy. As a result most of the Wizarding liaisons in the Muggle world were recruited either from the families of Muggle-born wizards and witches or were Squibs leading Muggle lives. The Muggle liaisons, who all had Muggle roots with the exception of one or two pure-blood Muggle enthusiasts in the fashion of Arthur Weasley, were paid only an expense allowance to meet with their counterparts once or twice a year and keep up to date with new Muggle developments in their fields.

All in all not very interesting, if there hadn't been a few precedents where unimportant inner proceedings in a Ministry department had changed with the reasoning that the Muggles did it that way. The potential to have one's way if only one could find a matching Muggle procedure was apparently tempting enough to pass new regulations in an attempt to present the pure-blooded candidates as at least as qualified as the incumbents.

Their argument had been that the head of the Goblin Liaison Office didn't have to be part goblin themselves_, ha ha, no really, now change that regulation there's a good chap_. None of them cared about the position of St. Mungo's liaison, which was of no use on the battleground of Ministry politics, but Hermione had been unlucky enough to be officially appointed one day after the regulations had come into effect. Hermione, of course, had seen it as a chance to expand her knowledge. Severus was sure that if she hadn't been so busy with her research she would have taken the Ministry test, too; he had half expected her to look into the possibility to sit A-levels.

While Severus was wool-gathering the topic of discussion had changed to the differences of the health systems in general and dentistry in particular, which led to an awkward moment where Doris wanted to check on her husband's handiwork and tried to look into Severus's mouth. Thankfully Hermione rescued him and declared they had to go or they would be late.

They climbed into the car and drove off with the Grangers standing on the pavement waving until they were out of sight.

Deep down Severus had dreaded that moment, but now that she had her licence Hermione was a competent and safe driver. Severus relaxed and listened with interest as Hermione told him stories about her home town while they passed that much green that it seemed to him that he had landed in a town within a park. It didn't surprise him in the least that the Grangers had opened their own dental practice in a town with the motto 'Health and Education', or that Hermione had visited countless literature and music festivals in her youth.

It all felt utterly foreign to him. Once upon a time that might have made him uncomfortable, but that night he went with the flow, determined to have fun. The whole evening felt surreal, like a dream. They found a parking space in a side road. Severus hadn't expected the theatre to be a modern building with a big glass front. There was no candelabra hanging from the ceiling, no gaslights on the walls. He had never been to the cinema before; he remembered that Lily had liked it as a child and wanted him to come with her and Petunia, but he didn't have the money and didn't allow her to pay for him because he detested anything that resembled charity.

When he and Hermione walked in nobody stared at them. The people waiting in line with them had never heard of Severus Snape, of Hogwarts or of Death Eaters, and nobody batted an eyelash when Hermione took his hand. That night they were just a normal couple and not the nasty teacher shacking up with his pupil or the Death Eater turncoat banging Harry Potter's best friend. Not even the age gap was causing raised eyebrows since Severus looked younger than his Muggle peers thanks to the longer life expectancy of wizards. All in all it was an oddly liberating experience, much like Severus expected a holiday at an exotic location to feel like. There were posters everywhere advertising films with actors Severus had never heard of, but Hermione was really in her element.

"What do you want to see?" She gave him a brief synopsis what each film was about but Severus found it only confusing so he left the choice to her.

"If I drag you into a romantic comedy I'll never hear the end of it. Let's see... I know. Do you like Star Trek?"

"You mean that's still around?" He'd heard of it, but the Snapes had not owned a television set.

She smirked. "Wait and see. Let's get some popcorn!"

When they had settled down in their seats with beverages, a box of popcorn and a considerably lighter wallet he dared to kiss Hermione and put his arms around her shoulders even though they were surrounded by strangers. The theatre went dark and the film began. The moving pictures, completely Muggle and yet not unlike the moving portraits in the wizarding world, had a magic on their own and Apparated them into a strange new world. No wonder Hermione loved it. When Severus looked down in her face illuminated by the screen she beamed up at him and put her head on his shoulder.

Severus vowed to take her out to the Muggle world more often in the future. He could make it part of phase three.


	6. Chapter 6

From that day on they regularly went Muggle as they called it, visiting restaurants and museums and enjoying themselves immensely. A teensy tiny part of his delight came from the fact that he was pissing on the Dark Lord's grave, metaphorically speaking, but the biggest part was the Muggle world itself. In the anonymity of Muggle London Severus found it easier to be more affectionate in public, a fact Hermione seemed to relish. Even after three years together the novelty that such a loving, intelligent, understanding, independent woman like Hermione wanted him hadn't worn off. Not to jinx it, but his life was pretty perfect at the moment and yet, while every minute they spent together strengthened Severus's conviction that he wanted her child and that it would enrich their relationship, Hermione had not once mentioned children and didn't seem in a hurry to bring it up: quite the contrary, actually.

Maybe he should Floo Minerva and ask if Sybil had coughed up a real prophesy lately, because Severus was running out of ideas. In fact, he had only one last ace up his sleeve and he hated to use it, but he saw no other option, no matter how much he loathed the idea. He only had to wait for the right moment. It was difficult for him to think of something else, because he had come to a point where he started to see families with small children everywhere. In the span of only ten minutes he'd seen a father carrying his daughter on his shoulders in Diagon Alley, a family of four sitting at a table at the reopened Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour and an expectant father touching his very pregnant woman's baby belly in the foyer of St. Mungo's. On that occasion Severus had been on his way to pick Hermione up. He'd been mortified when he recognised the man and woman in question were Ronald Weasley and his wife Susan.

When he asked Hermione about it on their way to lunch she told him they'd been visiting Susan's sister who had a run-in with a rogue Bludger and stopped by to say hello to her too. Severus had brought sandwiches with him and they had sat down under a tree in the park near St. Mungo's. The weather was fine, sunny but with a chill in the air that announced the end of summer.

They had sat upon his transformed robes and he had put his arm around her shoulder to keep her warm. It had been a perfectly romantic moment. He had observed her out the corner of his eye but instead of declaring her overwhelming desire to have a child with him she seemed to watch him right back. If the weather had been better he would have been sorely tempted to go for a swim in the fountain in the park and do his wet shirt number again, just to see Hermione's reaction.

The most irritating part, however, was that it hadn't been a one-off thing. It happened with increasing frequency that there were sudden lulls in their conversation, right in the middle of the most wonderful moments where their conversation suddenly ground to a halt and Hermione seemed to wait for him to say something. It was vexing.

Severus kept putting the dreaded conversation off until one evening when they were in the kitchen, Hermione sitting with a glass of wine at the table while Severus prepared their dinner. It was the time of day they wound down, relaxed and told each other what had happened in the hours they hadn't seen each other. From what Hermione had told him he presumed the Granger family had spent their evenings like that when she had been a child. It was a novel experience for him, though, and one he soon came to love. He had spent his childhood dinners cowed in fear and then used to eat either alone or in the presence of his colleagues under the watchful eyes of their students for the next decades.

"... and so I told her to be more careful with her uncle's heirlooms if she didn't want to be turned into a toad again. Are you listening?"

"I have been thinking," Severus said and turned around just in time to see her spill her wine.

Hermione swore under her breath and mopped up the liquid with the serviette next to her plate before it could trickle onto the floor. "Thinking about what?" she asked, whipped out her wand and

vanished the mess.

"The past."

She leaned back in her chair and brushed her hair out of her face. "I've asked all my questions, you don't have to tell me more."

She was alluding to the time he had turned up at her flat with a big bottle of Ogden's and a Hangover Potion when they had been seeing each other for about six months. Whenever she had brought up the war, his childhood or his time with the Death Eaters in their conversations he had given her monosyllabic answers. While she had respected his privacy and did not ask further questions he had been worried to lose her and decided to grasp the nettle.

"Tonight you will have the opportunity to ask me anything you wish to know and I will answer truthfully," he had told her. "Be warned, however, that I will not sugarcoat my answers to spare your feelings so only ask if you can handle the answer."

He couldn't remember much of that night, but he did remember the morning after when he woke up on Hermione's couch with his head pounding with the mother of all headaches, cat hair all over his clothes and Hermione's arms wrapped around him. He dimly remembered her asking his opinion of Minerva, but she swore he had only imagined it. She had been smirking, though, and only her bloodshot eyes stopped him from giving her the third degree.

Severus shook his head. "The more recent past." He cleared his throat and changed into teacher mode. "You might remember what I usually say in cases when I'm approached by former students who want to settle a score with me?"

"Sod off?"

"I don't say that!"

"No, but they always get the message, loud and clear."

Severus crossed his arms. "I tell them I was a spy and that I knew that one day the Dark Lord would return."

"I know, I've heard you say it once or twice. Normally they aren't impressed. Can't say that I blame them."

"I only tell them I was a spy and that I knew that one day the Dark Lord would return," he said with emphasis on the word 'only'.

Hermione frowned. "That's it? That's your big revelation?"

Severus arched an eyebrow. Somehow Hermione was not at her best today. "While not a lie that statement is not entirely truthful, either."

Hermione stared at him but when he only stared back, she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Right. Let's see. While you were in fact a spy and yes, you knew Voldemort would return, that's only half the truth?"

"An accurate assessment."

"And the other half?"

Severus raised his other eyebrow as well, willing her to understand without going through the ordeal of actually saying it.

"But you were horrible because... you were frustrated?"

Severus made a go on gesture with his hand.

"Because you had a bet going on with Filch or you got commission from Malfoy for every Gryffindor you made cry? Because you quite simply enjoyed it? Nargles made you do it? By Merlin's beard, Severus, what are we talking about?"

"In hindsight I may not always have chosen the most appropriate way of dealing with you."

"Uh huh, you don't say. Only me or the others too?"

"Don't expect me to apologise to all of them!"

"I don't. Wait you mean that was an apology?"

Severus took a deep breath. "What else do you want to hear?"

"Okay, just so that we're clear. You're sorry for how you treated me as your pupil?"

"... Yes."

"Me, and Neville and Harry in particular?"

"... Yes."

"And you wouldn't do it again, because you have changed and are ashamed of how you acted then?"

"... Yes."

Hermione stood up and went over to him. "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone," she said in low voice and took his hand.

Severus had a sneaking suspicion what she was getting at. "You are a much, much better person than I ever could be."

The grim look on her face looked out of place. "Marietta Edgecombe would beg to differ. Tell me, what do you think were my reasons for becoming a Healer?"

Severus hesitated.

"You can say it. Otherwise I wouldn't have asked."

"One might say you were disillusioned with the Ministry, the most obvious career choice for a witch of your intelligence and ambition, and decided to be a Healer because of your love for learning, need to help others and the chance to, say, found a new experimental division where you can research and reform traditional healing procedures to your heart's content."

"And you? What do you say?"

"You think you have been touched by the dark. You think you have to make atonement for decisions you made in difficult times. It's also no coincidence that your profession as Healer is the closest thing to the magical equivalent of the Muggle dentist," he said in a soft voice and squeezed her hand to take the sting out of his words.

"I do not only think I did cruel things, I know I did them. I didn't enjoy doing them like you enjoyed making us cry and don't think I have forgotten your quip about my teeth, but I wasn't the innocent lamb some people see in me. Obliviating my parents without their consent? Disfiguring Marietta? Nearly getting Umbridge killed, no matter what an awful person she is?"

Severus shook his head. "I embraced the dark with open eyes, I brought it on myself. But you? You only did what you had to do to protect yourself and the ones you love. You had no choice."

"I didn't have the choice to do nothing, but I could have made other choices. No, I always thought I knew what was best for everybody, because I'm supposed to be the smartest witch of my age, see? Turns out I really was a bossy know-it-all, and even more dangerous because I was occupying the moral high ground. You know where I'm coming from, but Harry and Ron, they can't. To be honest I don't know if I want them to."

Severus chose his words carefully. "Actually, I think Potter might understand," he said softly.

A small smile flitted over her face. "You think so? Yes, Harry might understand me if I told him, but he's not like us. He never wanted to be special, even if you don't believe it. His biggest fear was to become like Voldemort."

"Potter doesn't need my apology."

Hermione shrugged. "You're probably right, but I'm sure he would appreciate it."

"That's not what I meant. If Potter gets an apology from me then it is because I need it."

"Oh, Severus," she said and cupped his face with her hand, "I'm glad to hear it. Maybe someday you'll even say the same about Neville."

Severus tried to hide his face behind his hair but she didn't let him.

"I know you've changed, Severus, I suspected it from the moment I came to you for advice about that cursed patient back then when you took me seriously, and you proved me right. I respected you as a teacher even when you were horrible to us, and later after the war I admired you because you nearly sacrificed yourself to make up for the mistakes you did in your youth. But I wouldn't be sitting here with you today if you still treated people like you did then. So what I mean is I already knew, but thank you for telling me."

She stood up and smoothed down her skirt. "Will dinner be long? I promised Ginny I'd Floo her." She stole a slice of bell pepper from the chopping board on the sink.

An empty, hollow feeling settled in Severus's stomach as if a part of his past had bled out of him and left the cold bitter dregs behind. He had offered as much as he could, but Hermione expected more and, if he was honest with himself, should expect more of him. Only that he wasn't ready just yet to let go of his old grudges. He wasn't sure there would be much left of him if he did. How long would she wait for him he wondered, not for the first time. Why didn't he keep his big mouth shut? Everything had gone swimmingly but no, of course Severus just had to get impatient and cock it up by raising expectations he couldn't satisfy.

He picked up the meat mallet and pounded the cutlets into submission. "Then don't let me keep you," _wham_, "from calling on your friend," _whack_, "but don't expect me to wait for you," _splatter_.

He shoved the mangled piece of meat to the side, not hungry any more in the least, and reached for the next. He would make the best bloody dinner he could, damn it all.

Hermione stopped munching on her pepper and grinned at him. "You're such a drama queen." She pushed off of the sink and embraced him from behind.

"I said I have regrets, not that I'm punishing myself. I have my dream job, the relationship with my parents now is better than it has been since they came back from Australia, and in case you haven't noticed I'm with you because I love you, you dolt." She planted a big smacker on his cheek. "I'll only be gone for a few minutes. Don't worry, you can order me around later and I'll do the washing up."

She relinquished her grip and headed for the door. "By the way, Ginny wants us to come over for dinner sometime. Why don't we play a round of charades? We would wipe the floor with them."

She was already out of the room when he banged his head on the wall cupboard. Repeatedly.

* * *

As the summer was drawing to a close, Severus had to face the possibility that either unbeknownst to him his coma had destroyed the plotting and scheming cells in his brain or, and he preferred this explanation although it might not bode well for his future with Hermione, she was in general immune to his attempts to manipulate her. Her thirtieth birthday was looming on the horizon, a fact that caused him quite a headache because he couldn't assess if it worked in his favour or against him. Of more immediate concern to him, however, was the Potters' dinner invitation.

Potter made him uncomfortable. Nothing new there, but Potter had changed from the disobedient boy that had divided the world into black and white to a competent Auror and, worse, a wise man. Where the boy had stared at Severus with hatred, the adult Harry looked at him with a mixture of understanding, forgiveness and gratitude. It unsettled Severus deeply that apparently they had reached an understanding without Severus even trying and without ever mentioning the past. What the hell had the world come to when a Potter called his son Albus Severus?

It was easier to dismiss Potter when he didn't treat him with that knowing look.

The Potter's spacious old country house was only a stone's throw away from Ottery St. Catchpole and the Burrow. One cloudy Sunday afternoon Hermione knocked on the heavily warded door and Potter himself opened and ushered them inside into the hall littered with toys and five pairs of wellies.

"Hi Hermione! Hello, Severus. Come in, the children are upstairs. Ginny, they're here!" Potter shouted back into the house.

Severus grimaced. Ah, yes. Another reason he avoided Potter: the brat annoyed the crap out of him. Hermione and Potter hugged and chatted while they walked down the hall, Severus following a few steps behind, into the large bright kitchen where Ginevra interrupted preparing dinner to greet them. Severus examined Potter closely, the habit of a lifetime; the last time he had been off his guard Potter had decided to name his son after him, after all.

Potter noticed him watching and grinned self-deprecatingly. "I know, I've put on some weight. It's all the paperwork that came with the promotion."

Ginevra gave him a loving pat on his small belly. "You should do the exercises with the Auror recruits to keep in shape."

Nobody asked Severus, but he found that the additional weight suited him. Potter still had his trademark unruly hair but without the scrawny physique and with the rectangular glasses instead of the round spectacles of old he now resembled his mother as much as his father. Definitely an improvement in Severus's mind.

The fireplace flashed green and a voice called, "Hullo, anybody home? Can I come through?"

A few seconds later Ronald Weasley stumbled out of the hearth and brushed soot off his clothes. There were dark smudges under his eyes and he swayed.

"Ron! Is everything okay?" Ginevra asked and rushed to her brother's side.

Ronald's tired white face lit up. "Better than okay! Much better!" He puffed out his chest and in a booming voice declared, "I hereby proudly announce the birth of our baby girl Rose Amelia Weasley."

His announcement was met with great enthusiasm, high squeals from the women and a whoop from Potter. Nobody commented on Severus's reticence.

"Well done, mate!"

"That's a beautiful name. I'm so happy for you," Hermione said, apparently sincerely happy for her friend and former lover. Severus's heart beat faster with renewed hope.

Meanwhile Ginevra hugged her brother within an inch of his life. "How's Susan doing?" she wanted to know when she let go.

"Better than me. Mum says she is glowing and I look like I did all the work. Dad says it was the same with him every time. Mum's already at St. Mungo's, by the way. Susan says it's okay that you come visit now."

This little speech seemed to have drained all remaining energy out of him, because he collapsed on a kitchen chair and stretched out his legs in front of him. He sniffed in the direction of the oven and then looked up hopefully at his sister. "Is that roast beef?"

"Yeah, it should be ready by now." Ginevra scratched her head and gave Hermione a pleading look. "Hey, I know it's rude to invite you and then just disappear, but I'd love to go and see Susan and little Rose?"

"We don't mind, don't worry," Hermione assured her.

Potter put his arm around his wife. "Ginny, why don't you go ahead and I'll follow with the children?"

"Can I have something to eat before I starve and die on your kitchen floor? I'd love to go back to my wife and daughter, too," Ronald piped in.

"Go on Ginny, and you, get the children. I can fix dinner for Ron," Hermione said to the Potters.

Ginevra snorted and then both she and Hermione laughed. "Yeah, sure, Hermione. I tried to tell Mum that Severus's the cook of you two, but she just doesn't listen." She then turned to him and pointed at the cooker. "Would you mind? Only the sauce is missing."

Suddenly he was the centre of attention. "I will take care of it."

"Wonderful. We'll catch up later." She then caught him by surprise and embraced him. He tensed but she was already off to hug Hermione and whisper something in her ear that made Hermione smile before she threw Floo powder into the fireplace and left for St. Mungo's.

With Ginevra gone and Hermione and Potter upstairs to fetch the children and get them ready, Severus and Ronald were left alone in the kitchen. Severus went to work at the cooker, glad that he could busy himself and didn't need to talk with the other man, but unfortunately Ronald didn't catch up to the fact.

"She's so tiny," he said out of the blue.

Severus actually turned around to see if Hermione or Potter had returned, but no, Ronald was talking to him. All the adrenaline in his blood, probably. Severus stayed silent, hoping that Weasley would get the drift.

"Rose has Susan's nose, but I think she has my eyes."

Apparently not. Severus loudly handled the pots and pans to try and drown out the sound of Ronald's voice, but it didn't work.

"She's a miracle. We've tried for three years to get pregnant, all the Healers told us that there was no problem but why didn't it work then, huh? We started talking about adoption and then, one day, bam! Susan's pregnant. I nearly keeled over."

The story was news to Severus; if Hermione knew, she hadn't told him. He peeked over his shoulder and found to his horror that Ronald's eyes were swimming with unshed tears. Ronald looked up, then, started when he saw Severus watching him and hastily wiped his eyes with his sleeve. For once Severus was at a loss what to say. Not even a nasty remark would come to him.

He took a closer look at Ronald and for the first time really saw the man. He then took a good hard look at himself and wished he hadn't.

Ronald Weasley had lived in the shadow of his older siblings and his friend Potter nearly all his life, had apparently even struggled to become a father and that in a family that popped out children left and right. Severus's head was swimming. He used to sneer whenever Ronald's past as Auror came up, in secret convinced that he had left because he knew that they only let him in because he was Harry Potter's best friend and might get himself killed if he had to fend for himself, not because his brother conveniently needed help to save Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Maybe Severus had to reconsider; after all Ronald was well off nowadays, partner in a successful business that bore his name and flourished because he had opened up new markets. And now he was a father to boot.

Ronald had worked hard the last years, Severus finally realised, to find his place. In a sudden fit of inspiration Severus grabbed a bottle from Potter's shelf next to the sink. His fingers tingled as he reached through the anti-underage ward. "Butterbeer?"

Weasley's gaze wandered to the shelf with the stronger booze.

"Not before you had something to eat."

"Right." He ran his hand over his face and yawned.

Severus held the butterbeer out to Weasley. "To your daughter. You are a lucky man, Ronald."

Weasleys's ears turned an interesting shade of red. Severus already concocted the top three list of explanations he could give his beloved for exactly why he had to defend himself from the new-fledged father, just in case 'no I don't know why he took my sincere good wishes for sarcasm' didn't fly. 'Sorry, darling, I just had to put him in a Body-Bind' sounded a bit weak. 'That's what happens when I try to be nice to your friends' had the advantage of being the truth, but 'believe me, it hurt me more than him' was a classic and he had decided to use that one when a big toothy grin split Ronald's face.

"I really am a lucky beggar, right? Thanks, Sn-Severus," he said, stumbling over the unfamiliar address, and grabbed the bottle. "Cheers!"

Hermione wandered into the room. "Have you seen Al? He's not upstairs."

"Perhaps in the garden," Ronald said and took a swig.

"I'll go and look for him," Severus offered, grateful for the chance to get out. He turned off the cooker and handed Hermione the cooking spoon. "Here, you only have to put in on a plate."

He hurried out of the kitchen, through the entrance door and slowed down walking around the house, not that keen on looking for the boy. It turned out that he didn't need to search at all, because he found him the moment he came around the corner.

His small namesake cowered between the roots of an old apple tree. He was sniffling and worrying the ripped edges of a torn sleeve. Albus Severus was a pale, scrawny black-haired boy just like his father had been. In fact he could be easily mistaken for a very young Harry Potter. Or for a very young Severus Snape. A disconcerting feeling of déjà vu settled over Severus. He had the unsettling impression that at that moment his past, present and future, his dreams, hopes and failures coincided.

He finally understood. The reason he had done everything to convince Hermione to have his child but ask her outright? To avoid making a stand. He couldn't declare to the world at large that he wanted a child and family, because Severus Snape never got what he wanted. Oh no, the moment Severus wanted something the other shoe dropped, fate laughed into his face, and the gods kicked him in the teeth. For now Hermione stayed with him, but in a year? In a decade? He loved her, even if the words hadn't passed his lips yet- out of fear, he now realised.

Severus thought he could hear his subconscious snigger, but that was alright. He felt pretty foolish. Obviously he sucked at that whole self-awareness thing.

"Your father is looking for you inside," he said to the boy with the same calm voice he had honed in the two decades soothing homesick Slytherins.

The boy, _how old was he, three?_, bit his lips and wiped over his face with the remnants of a dirty sleeve. He ended up spreading out snot all over it. Severus waited and held his distance. He realised with the hot shame that could burn a hole in your insides that if somehow, maybe through some accident with a Time-Turner it really were a young Harry before him, Severus would have by now ridiculed the boy, taunted him about the tears on his face and sneered at his attempt to hide himself. Just like he had belittled him and done worse countless times when Potter was in his care. Just like, with another spin of the Time-Turner, it could have been himself crouched down trying to hide from his father and from the other children. He could see it clearly, the cycle of abuse in his life spanning from his childhood to adulthood, from victim to perpetrator, from one generation to the next, passed from his father to him to...

No.

It stopped right here, because he had a choice and he would make sure that it wouldn't happen again. Never again.

Severus cleared his throat. "Mr Potter, I suggest I clean your clothes and then we'll go back inside where I will refrain from mentioning the particulars of the state I found you in."

Albus Severus seemed to think about it, or maybe he tried to figure out if his auntie Hermione's friend was talking English, then he nodded and climbed back to his feet. "Fell off the tree," the boy mumbled and rubbed his ear.

He stood perfectly still while Severus muttered an incantation to heal the scratches on his arm and repaired and cleaned his clothes. Only when Severus took out his handkerchief and wiped his face Al wiggled and squirmed until Severus put the hanky away again.

"Now you are presentable. Come with me."

Albus Severus didn't need to be told twice and marched off on his short legs. Harry Potter had had a horrible childhood, Severus mused, but he was a loving father; Severus could do the same. A few yards down the path Albus suddenly raised his arm into the air, still walking. It took Severus a few moments to realise that the boy wanted him to take him by the hand. Another few seconds elapsed before big Severus reached down and clasped his fingers around little Severus's small hand.

A figure with bushy hair was standing by the window. They were too far away for Severus to read her expression, but even so he could see in the second before she turned around and walked out of his field of vision that she wasn't smiling.


	7. Chapter 7

Severus fiddled with the baby's dummy as he ran through his options again. It was a small yellow plastic thingy he had picked up spontaneously when he came from their favourite Indian restaurant where he had made dinner reservations for Hermione's birthday. Hopefully it would help him to bring up the topic and prevent the guessing game their last serious conversation had started with. That was, if he would get up the nerve to do it. You'd think Hermione would have caught on long ago, or did she really think that he had reached out to her parents out of the goodness of his heart?

The last time they had visited the Grangers they had tortured him. Good-natured, innocent looking Gordon did not even need his arsenal of torture tools. No, he had rubbed his hands and gleefully proposed they play Scrabble. Before Severus had the chance to declare that he knew what the game was, had even played it once or twice in his youth but could they not do something else like tell him embarrassing stories about Hermione's childhood, Gordon had dug out the box, Doris had loudly explained their own special family version of the rules over his objections and Hermione had fetched him a medicinal textbook, telling him he'd need it. She'd been right. He could swear the Grangers had more x's in the game than allowed. The round dragged on because he had to check every single word against the glossary of his book, but it was worth it when he caught Doris trying to cheat and spell _xanthodontia_ with an 'e' instead of an 'a' at the end while her husband and daughter turned a blind eye. Tsk, tsk. Of course he believed her that it was the German term for yellow teeth, but that was beside the point; if you forced a Slytherin to play, they played to win and at no time did she mention that their family rules included foreign languages that hadn't been dead for over a millennium. Honestly, what did they expect? Doris cornered him later alone in the kitchen, but instead of giving him the stern talking-to like he expected she hugged him to his embarrassment and thanked him for giving them back their little daughter. He would have preferred a lecture.

Severus shook his head. Try as he might, he could only see two possibilities to proceed. Ask Hermione outright and risk that she said no and, worst case, that it damaged their relationship. Or keep silent and hope that someday Hermione brought up the topic and give up on children if she didn't. And if she did say yes it would change their lives forever. Having dinner in restaurants, visits to the museum, spontaneously deciding to go out or, sometimes, to stay in: that would be a thing of the past, at least for a while.

It was a hard choice. So far Hermione had always taken the initiative in their relationship and all Severus had to do was say yes and go along. She had asked him out. She had kissed him first. She had jumped him when he had been too scared to touch her. The most active thing Severus ever had done in their relationship was saying yes when she asked if she could stay for a few days because her cheap flat had been infested with Doxys and then conveniently forgetting to remind her to move out again.

Severus was startled by the loud pop from the kitchen that accompanied Hermione's arrival. The dummy slipped through his fingers, bounced on the floor and rolled out of sight.

"Severus, are you home?"

"Yes, I'm here!" he shouted and whipped his wand out. "Accio dummy."

Nothing happened.

"I visited Barts today, you know, my inaugural visit as the new Muggle liaison," Hermione shouted back.

"Accio dummy!"

This time there was a loud miaow and the distinct sound of claws raking over a rug. Crookshanks appeared from under the couch, digging in his four paws without success, dragged by Severus's magic working on the dummy locked in the fleabag's jaws.

"I had totally forgotten about the smell in Muggle hospitals. Are you in the living room?" Hermione's voice asked from the hallway.

"Let. Go. Now," Severus ordered through clenched teeth. For once in his life Crookshanks actually listened, let go with a disgusted growl and sauntered off as if Severus didn't exist.

Severus swooped down, grabbed the maltreated dummy and stowed the soggy thing away in his robe pocket the moment the door swung open and Hermione entered the room.

"I didn't hear- sweet Merlin on a stick!" She clapped both her hands over her mouth and stared at him with wide eyes.

Had she noticed? Severus froze. No, she couldn't, he'd been too fast so it had to be something else. His eyes swept around the room, trying to see what she saw. Nothing out of the ordinary, only him down on one knee in front of the woman he loved in the house they shared and she couldn't think... oh yes she did. The Knut dropped the second Hermione started squealing.

Oh bugger. Sweet Merlin on a stick, indeed. "Hermione, I,..."

"Sorry, just a sec." She staggered over to the couch on unsteady legs, flopped down and took a couple of deep breaths. "Okay. I'm alright, go on." She put her hands on her knees and grinned from ear to ear.

Go on? Severus couldn't believe his ears. The wheels in his head came to a screeching halt. Slowly single words formed in his foggy mind.

Proposal. Wedding. Marriage. Married with children. Children?

Severus could feel a smile steal across his face. This wonderful, stunning woman wanted him to propose to her? His Hermione? Severus asked himself if wanted to marry her and have her by his side always, and the answer was a loud, resounding Yes! He would propose to her and the best part was he already knew she would accept!

"Hermione." He was still kneeling on the floor but she was now sitting on the other side of the room, so he stood up and gracefully strode over to where she sat. "My dear,... what is it?"

Hermione pointed at the floor again and tilted her head to the side, still beaming. "It's traditional, after all."

He guessed it was, so Severus dutifully sank on his knee again, this time right in front of her, and took Hermione's small hand into his. Feeling her fingers shake set his nerves on edge, too.

"My heart belongs to you, and only you," he began haltingly, "as does my whole body and soul. I- what now?"

A loud sob had interrupted him. "Don't mind me, I'm just so happy." With her free hand Hermione fished in her robe pocket, pulled out a paper tissue and wiped her eyes and nose. "Okay, ready when you are."

Severus took a deep breath and with a pounding heart he worked his way forward to the question of all questions. "I never wish to be parted from you again. Hermione Jean Granger, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

"Yes! Yes, of course I will!" she exclaimed in delight and wrapped her arms around his head so tight he thought he would suffocate. Severus breathed a sigh in relief against her bust and buried his face in her bosom. Ah, yes. He could live happily ever after like that. Or die happily, if Hermione squeezed much longer.

As if reading his thoughts she let go of his head. He had time to take one deep breath before she covered his mouth with hers for a deep kiss. By the time they came up for air Severus was seeing stars in front of his eyes. When his oxygen-deprived brain started working again it slowly sank in just what he had done. He had popped the question without any preparation whatsoever and risked rejection and humiliation, all with a smile on his face. Had he gone mad? He didn't even had a ring.

"I don't even have a ring," he blurted out. Mad. Totally nuts.

"You better not. You know the tasteful engagement ring Ginny's wearing?"

Severus nodded.

"That's the one she picked out after she made Harry return the pink heart-shaped monstrosity the jeweller talked him into buying."

Slowly but surely Severus's knees started aching so he heaved himself up onto the couch into Hermione's arms.

"You know, I started to think you would never ask. All our romantic dinners and you never jumped at the chance."

Uh oh. "Whatever do you mean?"

She played with a lock of his hair and gave it a gentle tug. "Come on, you were acting pretty strange. Ginny guessed midlife crisis."

"Midlife crisis?" Severus jumped back on his feet. "I'm not fifty yet! That's nothing for a wizard, or have you ever heard of a one-third crisis?"

"I know, that's what I told her! I knew for sure when you had the polish. Men in midlife crisis buy a flying motorcycle, they don't go off to meet their girlfriend's parents."

"So you went from midlife crisis straight to marriage proposal?" He noticed her look. "Hermione?"

"I checked you for curses. The whole routine, while you slept."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "It can't have been that thorough, because I would have noticed if you had drawn blood. Or did you forego the diagnosis potion?"

"No, but I used an old Scrutiny Solution that's not used any more nowadays. I first wanted to use the potion you developed last year, but I had trouble reading your notes. Your handwriting is worse than in the past, did you know that?"

"Everybody who needs to read the notes is able to, I assure you. So what are you not telling me?"

"The Solution isn't as accurate as the newer ones, but you don't need blood. There's another, uh, body fluid that will do in a pinch."

"I take it we're not talking about saliva or sweat?"

"No, and for the record, you were awake when I collected it. But you're close. It also starts with an S."

There was a long moment where Hermione tried to look indifferent and failed spectacularly. The clock on the wall ticked indecently loud while she wrung her hands.

"My, my, aren't you a sneaky little devil."

Hermione started up from the couch, "Severus, I was worried, you-"

"Another few years with me and you will be Slytherin through and through."

Hermione straightened and lifted her chin, the posture Severus had dubbed the you're-lucky-I'll-let-that-slide-because-I-feel-guilty stance. He didn't get to see it often, and he suspected she had copied it from him.

"You're hundred per cent curse-free, by the way."

"Good to know."

"Yes, I thought so too."

And that was the end of the matter; Severus was more than a little proud of his sneaky Gryffindor. He sat down again.

Hermione followed his example and put her head on his shoulder. "I found your list."

Her hair tickled in his nose. He smoothed it down with his hand and rested his head on hers. "Which list?"

"Well-behaved, quiet, intelligent, good-looking. Does that ring a bell? It was the night you tried to impress me with your muscles of steel. I couldn't sleep and went down to the kitchen to make tea. I ended up cleaning out drawers, scrubbing the oven and when I got to the fireplace I found the parchment stuck at the back."

Oh, the one he had made the night with the dream that had started it all. That list. Seen on its own he could count himself lucky that Hermione had only checked him for curses and not added a few of her own. It was high time to come clean.

"I didn't know I had you worried. There... was another reason. I didn't know how to bring it up." Severus reached into his pocket and held his hand out to Hermione.

She sat up straight, took the dummy from his open palm and laughed softly. "And here I thought I'd invest a year or two mentioning the topic from time to time before I tell you that I want a baby."

"You do?" Before he started to hope he needed some answers. "Then why does Molly think otherwise?"

"Ah, Molly. That was self-defence." At his questioning glance she explained, "When Ron and I broke up she tried to get us back together, always nagging Ron, inviting me over while conveniently forgetting to tell me that he would be there too, things like that. No idea why she thought we should try again. I mean it was obvious to everyone else that we just weren't suited for each other. Anyway, Ron and I were trying to be friends again and she made it harder, so I convinced Ron to tell her that he wanted children and I didn't. It wasn't an outright lie, I didn't want children at that time and he did. Well, it worked, and please don't tell Molly the truth. I don't want to hurt her feelings."

"Then what were you thinking that day when you saw me with Albus Severus?"

She thought about his question. "I was worried that he might make a fuss if he didn't want to come back inside, that's why I was standing at the window. But then you two were so cute together, and I thought, what if you never want children?" She pressed the dummy to her chest and kissed Severus on the lips. "Luckily I was wrong. But if you didn't plan to propose-"

"I thought I'd invest a year or two getting you pregnant before I tell you that I want to marry you."

Hermione laughed out loud. "Look at us, Severus. We simply must have a baby! It would be a shame to let our genes go to waste."

"No objections on my part." He tried to kiss her back, but Hermione put her hand on his chest and stopped him.

"You know, nowadays it's not really necessary to marry. Some people might expect it from us, but just because we want to have a-"

"What is it with you Gryffindors? Sorry, I won't marry you because someone pressured me into it, and I don't give a dragon's derrière about what other people expect us to do. Let others do things for appearance's sake if they're so keen on being ruled by outmoded customs. You want to marry me, I want to marry you, and we'll make a baby, end of story. Let them deal with it."

"If you put it like that, how could I resist? Only you can make tying the knot sound like a rebellion. Did I tell you lately that I love how your mind works?" Her hand fell from his chest onto his knee.

"Typical. Here I spend endless hours with repetitive, painful exercises to shape my body and you only lust after my brains."

"Well, to be accurate it's the whole package that counts." Her hand squeezed his thigh but to Severus's regret Hermione didn't try any shenanigans. "Before we get carried away, any suggestions for the wedding?"

"Not yet, but I will let you know if I develop any strong opinions in that matter." He tried to kiss her, but alas, there was her hand on his chest again.

"No doubt. I'm not one of those women who planned their wedding in all details before the age of twelve, but I have a few ideas. I'd like a white dress?"

"That's a classic. Anything else?"

Her hand disappeared, but only so that Hermione could list the items off on her fingers. "No carriage; they remind me of the ones at Hogwarts and I don't want to think of Thestrals on my wedding day. No doves; I think that's cruel."

"Let me guess, no house-elves serving either? We could pay them, if you insist. If you agree I could direct an enquiry to Draco."

"Oh, that would be alright then, I think. Although, I don't know if we'd need them? I'd prefer a small wedding, not too many people."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "I see you have given the matter no thought at all. Very well. I'll agree to these terms under one condition."

"Which is?"

"You won't let your mother pick our wedding cake."

"Deal." Hermione fidgeted and wrung her hands. "Um. I don't want to rush you, but when you say we'll make a baby then which time frame are you talking about?"

"How did you phrase it earlier? Ah, yes: ready when you are."

Her jaw dropped. "You mean that?" At his nod she added, "You know I'm on the potion."

"We should practise then. I know you prefer to consult books before you move on to the practical stage but in this case I recommend skipping the theoretical part."

The grin on her face was downright feral. "Convince me."

Severus's blood rushed down between his legs and throbbed with his heart beat. "I don't think you need convincing," he whispered into Hermione's ear. When he sat back and spread his legs to be more comfortable he saw her licking her lips. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her mouth.

"I think you're right," she said, the most delicious blush spreading over her cheekbones.

Severus couldn't say who moved first, but suddenly her soft mouth was on his, his hands were seeking her skin hidden under her blouse and they went down on the couch in a tangle of limbs.

"Don't make me wait," she murmured against his lips and pressed her hips to his while trying at the same time to open his fly.

"I won't. I can't," he said, for once devoid of his usual eloquence when Hermione was moving under him like that.

"Hurry up, I want you now." She wriggled out of her trousers and panties, pushed them down to her knees and then kicked out of them.

He gave her room and used the chance to open the last button of his fly. Their lovemaking hadn't been that frantic in months, and thinking about the reason why they were getting it on on the couch like a newly enamoured couple sent a new frisson of lust through his system. He had tugged his pants and trousers down over his arse when Hermione pulled him back to her and showered distracting kisses on his neck with her hot lips. She sucked on his skin and grazed the sensitive spot right under his ear next to his scar with her teeth.

Severus shivered. "Ready?" He waited for her nod and positioned himself. She slid her bare legs over his clothed ones and wrapped them around his naked waist. Finally he could feel her skin on his and he lost it and sunk to the hilt into her waiting heat, even though he had wanted to go slow and savour the first time he made love to his fiancée but Hermione had other plans.

"Deeper," she ordered.

She tucked up her legs and Severus slid in even further. Too fast, too much, he stopped moving and rested his front on her shoulder. "Want to make it special, for you, let me...," he tried to explain.

"More," she gasped and rocked under him.

Severus hooked one hand under her leg to try to keep her from moving in a desperate attempt to hold back and make it last, but she squeezed around him and he wanted nothing more to pound into her and go deeper, deeper.

"Need to feel you, all of you, can go slow another time..."

Another time, they had the rest of their lives, oh yes, and it was that thought that short-circuited his brain and made him spring into action. He grabbed her arse and thrust in and out of her with abandon, wishing he could bury himself even deeper in her. A trickle of sweat ran down his spine and his palms on Hermione's thighs were so slick with moisture his hands nearly slipped, but that was nothing in comparison to the slippery heat where their bodies were joined. Hermione arched upwards and he pressed his face into her cleavage. He loved how she made him feel; loved her, her mind, her body, oh yes every square inch of her body. His shaky sweaty fingers fumbled with the buttons of her blouse and then just ripped it and pushed her bra out of the way until her breasts were revealed.

"So perfect," he whispered.

"Don't stop," Hermione protested, her eyes closed and her chest heaving.

He couldn't deny her anything. So perfect, these two words were repeating itself in his mind like a mantra with every push of his hips. The couch springs groaned with his every move but he could hardly hear it over the sound of his and Hermione's gasps. He was so close, but he didn't want to come, not yet, not before he had given her what she craved. The world only consisted of him and Hermione, Hermione and him; she called his name and he could feel her clench around him and he had to see her face, the glowing face of his future wife oh fuck she cried out and he could feel her only her forever her...

He came with a guttural growl and collapsed into Hermione's waiting arms, still buried inside her, his breath mingling with hers, his sticky shirt clinging to her glistening skin.

"Go, little swimmers," he mumbled into Hermione's breasts, bone tired but on cloud nine.

Under him Hermione chuckled, still out of breath, and gently stroked his back. "Patience, Severus. They'll get their chance soon enough."


	8. Chapter 8

Severus was knackered. First he had spent an hour weeding the new herb garden before it turned into an impenetrable jungle, cut his hand slicing caterpillars and then botched the batch of his experimental version of the improved Shrinking Solution he had needed them for, but he was too tired to get upset. Crookshanks had glared at him because he had forgotten to feed him, again, and was sulking under the couch. Severus needed sleep.

He tottered across the bedroom, sidestepped the heaps of unpacked boxes from their move to Teignmouth, grazed the muslin squares, stubbed his toe on the gigantic new wardrobe his wife had insisted on, almost cast Silencio on himself out of reflex before his brain caught up with him and then bit his tongue instead to not cry out in pain and bring Hermione's wrath down on him, zigzagged the stained baby rompers on one foot, hopped around the pack of nappies and finished with a precision landing on the rug in front of the bed. Severus smirked. He was getting better.

On the brand-new wooden bedside cabinet next to their brand-new wooden bed stood their wedding picture. Severus ran his finger over the frame, watched picture Hermione smiling up at him and thanked his lucky stars. That little ritual was as much a part of his nighttime routine as brushing his teeth.

The wedding had taken place in January on Severus's birthday; Hermione had argued that if they waited for summer and they were lucky she might already be heavily pregnant by then. A ministry official married them in Potter's garden. The lawn was covered by a thick layer of snow: several complex charms had been woven into it in order to preserve the picturesque while keeping the wedding party and guests toasty warm at the same time. Otherwise Hermione would have caught a cold in her long strapless wedding gown. Severus wore a chocolate brown knee-length frock coat matching her chiffon empire waist dress. Molly nearly had had a heart attack when she heard that not only had Severus seen Hermione's dress before, but they had gone shopping together for their wedding clothes. They left Molly in charge of the food to appease her and everybody was happy.

The picture was taken right after the ceremony when Hermione whispered into his ear that the wedding stress was not in fact the reason that her period was days overdue; as chance would have it he had the picture of one of the happiest moments of his life.

A murmur had gone through the crowd when the official stated their new name. Doris had proposed that they should hyphenate, but a double-barrelled name sounded too posh for Severus's Mancunian working class soul. He had spent his youth wishing he had been born a Prince and then tried to make his mark as a Snape, with the result that every witch and wizard in Britain knew that he had killed Albus Dumbledore. In the end he decided that fifty years of being a Snape was enough and to start again as a Granger.

For all their liberal-mindedness, he knew for a fact that the Grangers had celebrated the survival of their family name with a glass of champagne at the wedding. He knew because he had caught them at it.

Back in the present Severus shifted the picture an inch backwards and accidentally knocked a little stuffed elephant off to the floor, a gift from the Potters, which landed with a soft, indignant trumpety-trump.

"Ssh, you'll wake him."

"Sorry."

Real Hermione didn't look that lush at that moment when compared to picture Hermione, and the reason for it was just taking a nap. Severus slipped in next to his wife - he never tired of calling her that, he had been known to start conversations with people he normally ignored just so he could introduce her to them as 'my wife', although with the Daily Prophet's coverage of their wedding there shouldn't be any witch or wizard left in ignorance about their marital state - and looked over her shoulder at the little baby boy in her arms. His tiny little hands were clenched into tiny little fists and he was fast asleep. Severus wriggled higher up on the bed so he could embrace Hermione and look at his infant son at the same time. In Severus's eyes little Sean Regulus Granger was perfect with his soft and wispy black baby hair, the button nose he had inherited from his mother, thank Merlin, and the long eyelashes.

They had wanted a plain and simple first name for their child, no Roman emperors, no Shakespearean heroes. Hermione had found a Sean in the Granger family tree and it stuck; Severus had been the one to propose Regulus as middle name. It fit in more ways than one, Hermione agreed. He chose it for Regulus Black, the young Slytherin stupid enough to join the Death Eaters who later realised his mistake, just like Severus, and gave his life trying to defeat the Dark Lord; he never had the chance to grow up, marry and have children, but his name would live on. That was Severus's reason, but Hermione reminded him that Regulus meant little king - and what else was a Prince? - and was also the heart of the lion: the brightest star in the constellation Leo the Lion. What better name for their son?

Sean smiled in his sleep and Severus's heart melted into a puddle of goo. It was amazing how such a tiny creature could wrap him around his little baby finger; sometimes his son's dark brown eyes seemed to look straight into Severus's soul.

"He's beautiful, isn't he?" Hermione said and Severus could only nod because he did not trust his voice. So far parenthood was a special kind of madness. Severus suspected it was a defence mechanism so that by the time puberty rolled around the parents were so attached to their offspring that they only dreamed of throttling the obnoxious smelly monsters their cute little babies had turned into instead of actually following through.

Baby Sean was oblivious to his parents watching him and snored loudly. He spent the biggest part of his days and nights either sleeping or feeding at his mother's breast.

Speaking of which, after giving birth Hermione had become curvier in all the right places.

"Don't touch," she said and swatted his hand away.

It wasn't fair, her looking so delicious when apparently her breasts felt like they could burst any second, but Severus wasn't stupid. He raised his hand in the universal sign of surrender and put it on Hermione's no less alluring hips. The baby had put a real damper on their sex life, but that didn't stop Severus from daydreaming.

_Now would be a good time to say it, don't you think?_

Don't press me. Wait, why can I hear you?

_Your shields crumbled around the time your little prince here took his first breath, so we can now work together as a team, with me quietly in the background. You can only hear me now because of your sleep deprivation. It helps me to get through without static, like in your dreams._

No more binge drinking necessary?

_No. And now tell them. You're one lucky bastard, Severus, and don't you forget it._

Life hadn't been especially kind to Severus Snape, and Severus Snape hadn't been kind to others in turn, but Severus Granger was having the time of his life. It was him who worked up the courage to do what he was about to do.

"I love you," he whispered into Hermione's ear. "Both of you, so much."

"We know you do, Severus, and we love you too." She clasped his hand and kissed his palm. "We love you too."

To say they lived happily ever after would be an exaggeration, because that's for fairytale creatures and not mere mortals. But they came as close as you can get, much closer than Severus had envisioned in his dreams, which only serves to show that sometimes even dreams pale in comparison with reality. And that is that.

The End


End file.
